A Day in the Life
by LoreleiSkye
Summary: Original character, ministry employee- career witch. Nov 1, 1981--present in Canon, OOC after the 5th book ends. OOtP spoilers! Mostly done now with endings, rating ok?:Brief language, light violence, NO sexual content
1. Title Page

Title Page  
  
POV Character name: Lory Finnigan 1957 – present  
  
Present Age (1994 between 4th & 5th books): 36 years  
  
House: RC: 1968-1976 (out of school for 15+ years)  
Was Ravenclaw prefect 5th & 6th year  
Chaser on Ravenclaw Quidditch team starting 4th – 7th year  
High scores on O.W.L's & N.E.W.T.'s In defense against dark arts, and charms  
  
Occupations: 1986-present Part-time defensive flying instructor, broom maintenance  
technician, and flight tutor; Hogwarts school  
1984-present Under-cover auror ("unspeakable")  
focus areas sports and education; on-call CSI for  
high profile disaster sites  
1978-1985 Auror/CSI  
1976-present Quidditch Training consultant and  
talent scout for Chasers and Seekers for Brittiana  
Quidditch League  
  
Hobbies include: Broomstick restoration, stunt flying, duelist, muggle watching  
  
Family: One living Grandmother, Moira- Family Matriarch, Witch  
Parents; both living in Ireland- Father (Sean)= Wizard,  
Mom (Alexia) = ½ blood (American, moved to Ireland)  
Living at old family manner-house with Moira  
One Older Sister, (40) –  
Married to a Muggle, one son 14, Hogwarts, Gryffendor.  
One Older Brother, Michael Ravenclaw (38)- married,  
1 son age 3  
One younger sister Katie Hufflepuff (34)-  
Widowed, 1 daughter, 2y, also at Manor house  
  
Other Notes:  
  
I'm making the assumption that brooms are like cars in a few ways, and that next year's family model comes out in the fall, while sports models come out in the spring.  
  
The age of Hogwarts students are 11-18, the cut off date for entrance is Sept 1. AKA- you have to be 11 years by August 31, or you go into the next year's class. By this assumption, Hermione's birthday is 9-18-1979 for her to be 11 at the start of the Sorcerers Stone, not 10. And Harry's B-day is July 31, 1980. This assumption may make my years/ages one year off in either direction when dealing with people.  
  
Voldemort's Downfall on 10-31-1981; Sirius and Pettigrew face-off on Nov. 1, 1981  
  
The last time I worked extensively on the story was in May of 2003. OOTP came out in June. I've been working on revisions based on information revealed in that book. This is causing many of my dates and internal timeline to be a little off in places.  
  
Special thanks and acknowledgements:  
  
The Harry Potter Lexicon: - 2.html, for help checking my spelling- (yes, I'm still checking it!)  
  
The FanFic Story's:  
  
-- "I Am Lord Voldemort" by Helen Vader- (link has vanished!) For the inspiration to actually write this down.  
  
"Darkness Dying"  
  
For a believable world pre-HP books  
  
"More the Fool He"  
  
For Snape's view of the duel with Lockheart in COS  
  
"Empty Chairs at Empty Tables"  
  
For more inspiration about dealing with Lupin in my own story  
  
Final Note: Each day is it's own adventure. It has its ups and downs, successes and failures. One day bleeds into the next creating a life. Just like it takes about 30 people in the background to put one news anchor on the television, there are crowds of wizards around many points in these books. Lory is part of that crowd, and part of Dumbledore's support staff. It started as 3 scenes I came up with driving across the country- and has grown considerably since. This is her story, from her POV. Enjoy!  
  
Legal Stuff:  
  
Harry Potter, its cast and characters, spells, potions, and the entire world were created by J.K. Roeling and are owned by J.K. Roeling and Warner Brothers. Copyright and merchandising and all the rest belong to those fine people there. No infringement on anyone's property is intended with this story, and no profit will ever be made by printing it. This is only a poor attempt to run around in a world more fun then my own at least on paper. 


	2. Thanks to my reviewers, ongoing

Thanks to my reviewers:  
  
From: clowning-jilly The following review has been submitted to: A Day in the Life Chapter 1: "WOW! this is one long fic! you must be congratulated on all the effort you have obviously gone to in order to write this fic! So congratulations!"  
  
She reviewed the first uploading/publishing of the story- (review was deleted when I removed the story & updated to chapter format) Thanks for the congrats! Hope you like the story as well now that its been broken up into manageable chapters :)  
  
From: MurasakiNeko The following review has been submitted to: A Day in the Life of a ministry witch Chapter: 6 Ooh, I like . . . the whole First War genre appeals to me, and telling it from an outside source was an interesting perspective.  
  
Yeah! Someone else likes to speculate about the first war! I have a few of her stores from her Hogwarts graduation in 1976 – 1981 in various stages of writing, but not ready for uploading. Thanks for the review! 


	3. Chapter 0, prelude

_**December 1976**_

_(to clarify: summer '76; reserve seeker. Fall 1976-August 1977, chaser. Fall '77 due to injury and a desire not to travel as much, began apprentice work to being a trainer. Aug. 1978 is the "big disaster.")_

"All right team- hit the showers! That's enough for today. Good practice all." We joined in as our coach said the next line in his usual end-of practice speech.

"But tomorrow must be better!"

"That's right." He looked proudly at us as we ambled off the Quidditch pitch.

There was the usual chatter as we headed to the locker rooms:

"If he worked us any harder- we'd be house elves!"

"Everyone ready for a pint of mead after this?"

"I think that bludger had my name on it- where was the bloody beater anyway!"

As a new graduate from Hogwart's I put in applications several places, not really sure what I wanted to do coming out of school. Like a lot of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students in my graduating class, I had almost too many options available to really settle on one. I didn't want to be stuck behind a desk- that's about all I knew. And after losing a few close relatives to the war, I didn't want to join the ranks on the lines.

On a whim I tried out for the Quidditch league with a friend from school, more so Kendra wouldn't be trying out alone. I was rather surprised to find a job offer as reserve seeker for the Scotland Pride of Portree team, under Coach Trevor Rhodes. Kendra went on to train as reserve seeker for the Holyhead Harpies. Much to the obvious disappointment of my professors, and the cheering support of over half of my family, I joined the quidditch league rather the take a ministry or research position. At the end of last season, one of the Chasers received an offer to go work at the Quidditch museum- moving me into a full chaser position.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I was just 19 flushed, tan, trim. My dark auburn hair windblown and slipping from the knot I'd tied in it. A little taller then most chasers, my friends would joke about my Scottish ancestry showing up in my high cheekbones and dark blue eyes. My shoulders were a mass of freckles, except on the right side where I was still had a mess of bruises. Blocking a bludger with ones back is hardly recommended but sometimes required. The bones were re-knitted and we still won the match against the Windborne Wasps. Our upcoming game against the Arrows was going to be a challenge.

I got the bottle of linnement out of the locker the team medic had left for me. I was to rub it in to the injured site, leave sit for 10-15 minutes then rinse off in the shower. At least it didn't smell as awful as the potion Bowie has to use.

"Want some help with that Finnegan?"

"Sure thing, thanks, Meg!"

"Hey, I owe you one for saving my broom in the middle of the match like that! And I think you even took care of that slight drag-list my Nimbus had developed."

Meg Thorton played Seeker for our team. Petit, short cropped black hair, green eyes. She was also becoming a very close friend. We started to get to know one another at the end-of-season party last year after kicking her jerk of a husband out of the pub. He had been carrying on with a protesting bar-maid in front of her and the rest of the team. We were all aware he didn't treat Meg right, but this pushed all of us, including Meg, too far. We nearly caused a riot clearing him out it took nearly 4 months to pay for the damages. Coach, when interviewed by the _Profit_ called it "spirit of teamwork in action."

As he often reminds us: good teams are like family, and you take care of your family.

"That was some save the other day! I didn't know it was possible to do a double-upside down barrel roll, especially after being hit by a bludger." We both laugh knowing the maneuver was an accident, caused by the combination of the angle the bludger hit, and the recent removal of a balancing charm from my broom. It hit, and inertia caused over-rotation from lack of resistance. Admittedly, I'm still working on that.

It was just fortunate I'd passed the Quaffle before the third rotation of my broom plowed me into the ground. The coach commented today, that as soon as he figured out how to perform the roll safely, he was adding it to the team practices. It either looked really showy, or he thinks it's effective. But he's had me practicing it non-stop since. I think it's revenge for showing up on a refurbished 60-year-old broom rather then the new Nimbus or Comet sports model he was insisting I use after my previous broom was half shattered by a runaway bludger during practice. I'd rather count on my own flying skills and have a broom that responds accurately to where I want it to go, WHEN I want it to go.

I glance fondly at my Silver Arrow II in the rack next to me. It was my grandfathers that I found in the family vault. After doing a lot of research, I was able to fully reactivate all the charms on it. I also researched what 'improvements' have been made to the top model racing brooms and modified this broom to match for speed, comfort, wind resistance, and agility. And only added the safety and anti-hexing charms that didn't interfere with the broom. It was my most ambitious project to date and was still a work in progress. Last season I won a 'most valuable rookie' award from my team for taking on broom care and maintenance as part of my team duties. As active as I tend to be, having a hobby that requires incredible patience, stillness, focus, and concentration is a benefit. Someday, I hope it becomes possible to turn the hobby into a lifetime career.

I emerge from the showers, deposit my uniform in the cleaner, change into my new winter dress robes set my hair and make-up and left the locker room. The full team was heading out to celebrate the yuletide, and Coach's 15th anniversary with the team. Meg and Dara Macnab are waiting for me at the entrance, along Sean Ross the other Chaser. We were quickly joined by: Galena Reed, the team medic, Tallys Sherrod, the new transfer Beater from France, Bowie Bently the other beater and our most senior member. We had to wait a few more minutes for our keeper Jarvis Thornton and team Captain Hendrix Stocker. The three newly hired reserve players would be waiting for us at the restaurant.

We had made reservations ahead of time so we were able to arrange a portkey to travel together rather then risk apparating one at a time. Portkeys are monitored as well, but harder to trace then several people arriving at scattered times in a single place, and much safer then the floo network has proved to be in recent weeks according to the papers.

We arrived shortly before our coach did. There were a lot of people in the room. As many of the retired players that his wife could contact also joined us along with other friends and family. My brother from the Ministry was acting as photographer so everyone would be in the pictures. The restaurant was overjoyed to host this large of a crowd. When Coach Rhodes arrived, someone let off some indoor fireworks setting off much laughing and cheering.

Such a night! There was laughter and stories told over cocktails, then we were all seated to a fine dinner. I ended up next to a retired beater, Harold McGinnis, who left the year before I joined. He was working for the ministry now, but he still went to as many of our matches as he was able either as a security wizard or a spectator. Meg, Harold and I ended up in a lasting conversation about broom restoration and comparing what I know about old brooms to the new.

I jumped slightly as I felt hands caress my neck. Turning around with a glare for Ritche my best friend and significant other of nearly a year- he mockingly backed up a pace, a quipped about my Irish temper showing through again. He gave me quick kiss on the cheek and sat down next to Meg. He quickly joined the broom and quidditch discussion, which lasted throughout dinner.

During dessert, toasts were made, many humorous. Ritche stood up as if to make a toast.

"Coach, Madame Rhodes- I asked your permission if I could do this, now seems to be a good time." I saw the coach make little shooing motions at him.

Ritche came around the table and pulled a very stunned me to my feet.

He got down on one knee in muggle fashon, pulled out a ring from his pocket and asked very pointedly if I would consider hand-fasting our lives together. We'd talked about it off an on for a few months- how could I say no? But nothing came out when I tried to say yes, so I just nodded emphatically.

More cheers as he placed the ring on my finger, swept me off my feet into a quick embrace- at which point my brother snapped a photo. I couldn't stop laughing, realizing he was in on all this as well. Meg and Dara rolled in a second cake congratulating Ritchie and I. More photos were taken and more toasts were given. There was an overwhelming feeling of camaraderie in the room that night.

The laughter was broken by the sounds of explosions from nearby. The ministry members in the room motioned us all to remain in our seats and away from windows while they checked it out. Not 5 minutes passed before Harold and my Brother returned.

There was nothing that could be done. Magical law enforcement was putting out the fire, helping the victims, and dissipating the dark mark.

Coach stood in the silence that had descended on the room.

"Our laughter and friendship is stronger then the hatred that exists outside these doors. Have courage. Let us raise our glasses to our friends at the ministry, and the unknown fallen. But we have to remember it is okay to celebrate the joy-filled occasions in our lives. If they can take that away- then they will have truly won. The ministry has locked down the neighborhood for the next 4 hours. We will probably be searched in a short while. In the meantime; eat hearty, drink boldly and Lori and Ritche- Love long." We raised our glasses, toasted- and in time conversation began to return to a normal level.

As my brother one time pointed out as a ministry witch-tracker, (the ones who keep an eye on muggle born wizards and witches- children can't always control their powers) he felt it's only a matter of time before Lord V. succeeds in taking over. V had too much support in the beginning, and gained too strong a foothold among the radicals. It wasn't until he started _killing_ the half-borns that people thought he'd crossed the line. My brother went on to say the Quidditch league staying active as long as it has helps keep the hope of the common witch and wizard alive. There has been talk for over a year at this point about shutting it down for the safety of the teams. The teams each voted, nearly unanimously, to keep playing and doing what we can in that way for the citizens.

It's our way of standing up for the way of life we're all fighting in our won ways to preserve.

My brother, Ritchie, and I apparated back to the flat my brother and I shared when I was in the area. There was an owl waiting for Michael – he changed into full ministry robes and went to the office.

I fixed some tea and we carried it to the veranda.

Sitting there under the stars, Ritchie took my hand made another promise to me. I'd never face a dark night like this along as long as he was with me.

As long as he was with me...

As long as he was with me...

As long as he was with me...

Just under two years later, I stood in the rain at his graveside- a young widow, the rain mingling with the salt tears on my face. The ground crew, still burying him and most of my friends and teammates. We weren't even married a year.

We had all gamboled with death.

And lost.

Harold McGinnis and I had remained in contact since the Coach's anniversary. I asked him and my brother about whether they thought I could get a job at the ministry. They were going to talk to some people and see what they could do.

After the services I went back to our home of 6 months in Goderics Hollow.

We'd never even finished unpacking.

I faced the entry foyer and felt a feeling of numbness spread and eclipse the grief that had been with me these past few weeks during the clean up and digging out of the Quidditch stadium.

All that remained, were the tasks to be completed.

Pack, sell stuff, donate, move remaining stuff to storage, sell the house. Move.

Move on.

They all would want me to Move On. My friends-all of them like family, my husband, and the children we'll never have.

I turn to direct the movers- dry eyed and steady. The realtor said there was a newlywed couple fresh out of Hogwarts who'd made a bid on the house. I hope they find much as much joy here as we did.

"Go ahead and move those empty boxes over there. We'll shrink them after they're full."


	4. Chapter 1, Nov 1 1981

A Day in the life... November 1, 1981 

I surveyed the grisly scene.

I had seen plenty such scenes these past two years as an auror, but this one had a vaguely surreal quality about it. Most likely due to the fact we'd all had a faint hope that we'd not see such scenes again- the rest of the wizarding world was out celebrating that hope. For those here, that hope was quickly shattered in broad daylight, with muggles present. We were working quickly with their investigators and the witnesses, to get their real statements before we convinced them they didn't see what they thought they saw. The obliviators surly have their hands full today, but that's not my department.

I am here to verbally note my observations into this little black box Moody handed me, take my pictures, and sketches. I have never been more grateful for my colleges introducing me to "quick-quotes" and "quick-sketch" quills. They make that part of my job much smoother. Esp. since as long as I am attuned to the pens, they can work even up to 20 ft away from me, in a cupboard of the ministry van in which they sent us all here.

I take another picture. There is still something really unnerving about the site here. The blast point, and the amount of damage, for one thing. Someone had to know the sewers really well to be able to precisely hit a gas main. But who in the magical community actually worries about muggle sewers?

I have the pen note this question down.

I can still hear Black's laughter in my ears. I don't think they're going to get anything sensible out of him right now. My guess is he may have been hit with the hex of uncontrollable laughter combined with a cheering charm. I note this down as well. Because, well, at this point anything's possible. I vaguely remember Sirius Black from Hogwarts. He was a few years behind me and not in Ravenclaw, my house. But I remember he was a bit of a troublemaker, and friends with James Potter.

I can see how having your best friend killed could send you off your head, but in the middle of muggle London?

I vaguely hear someone calling about finding a tenth body. Seven have already been carted away to a city morgue in various states of broken. We still haven't found anything of the second wizard in this fiasco. We got that much sense out of Black at least, that someone else was involved, and that it all had something to do with the other person and the Potters. But all that was already noted down.

"CONSTANT VIGALANCE!" I could almost hear Moody in my head. "Watch. Observe. Pay Attention. Act. Reflex." He had repeated this often during my two-year training period. I realized his voice was coming through a speaker on the box.

I concentrated on photographing and sketching the next section of the street.

That's when I saw the finger. Through the zoomed lens of the camera, near a sewer drain. I look back towards the blast point; it's almost 10 meters away. I take pictures of both the finger and the straight-line shot of the hole. Then I go examine the finger bending down see it closer. There is something that doesn't match what I've seen the rest of this morning.

Then it hits me.

It's too clean cut. I note this down into the recorder as well, and here a slight murmur of voices through the speaker debating what this means. As I pull back from the finger for more photographs, another hand reaches in and seems like it's going to snatch it out of the viewfinder.

"That's Evidence!"

"I'm well aware of that, Rookie."

The one voice no junior investigator ever wants to hear during the course of the day, and it was speaking to me. And as I lowered the camera, the face attached, belonging to Bartimus Crouch, was glaring.

"That evidence was not yet been fully documented, Sir." I tried to say more respectfully. "You left orders to be sure our team complied with the muggles working on this scene, so not to draw attention to our double-investigation."

"Very good, Cadet, carry on." He replaced the finger carelessly and walked away; back so straight you'd think he had rods inserted in it.

"Don't draw that much attention to yourself from him." I hear my senior-trainers voice clearly through the speaker. I return to the notes I was taking, and call one of the on-site senior team members over.

"Frank," I say when he get's into earshot, "Take a look at this."

He bends down to examine the finger, "Its placement is rather far from the blast point, and its raw edge doesn't look blasted. So the question is, is this part of our crime scene?" He takes some sight-size measurements. "Watch out for me"

I look up and down the street, where no one is paying attention to us. I discretely watch the scene, until I hear Frank say he's finished casting the teller's spell

He told me the finger did indeed belong to this crime scene, and that it was all that remained here of it's former owner, and what owner was named Peter Petticrew. I had to strain to recall him from school, and all I could remember was that he too, had been friends with James Potter, but more in the background then Sirius.

I saw Crouch returning with Cornelius Fudge and two of the muggle investigators. His face was set into a tight unreadable mask.

Twelve bodies in all were found that day. Thirteen if you count Peter. Something I will never forget, is that even though Voldemort was defeated, he could still cause scenes like this. I think this is what convinced me more then anything that someday Voldemort would return. I received the all clear from my team-leader to return to the Ministry.

I walked into the van, grabbed my notes and sketches from their hidden compartment, and disapperated.


	5. Chapter 2, Nov 2 1981 interviewing Lupi...

Evening, November 2, 1981 

"Lupin, Remus Lupin?"

"Yes."

He looked half-dead. I'd been watching the interrogations' on my inter-office globe, and so far no one had covered the questions I had since I'd seen the crime scene yesterday. The past 8 hours had been horrible to watch. The Ministry hit men called several people in for character statements on the two wizards. But none were dragged in off the street the way Lupin was in the early morning. Him, they handcuffed to a chair gave double and more doses of undiluted veritaserum followed by stimulants, and caused him to relive in his mind the loss of all his closest friends.

I'd had to invoke a lot of authority and sign a list to even speak to Lupin alone. I was a junior minister, but my department has a lot of clout in these matters. What I was about to do next may come under board of inquiry, but the information and the truth was more important.

I set up a scramble field to block inter-office transmission to nearly every department except mine. The first thing we agree to when we sign on as Investigators, is that finding out the truth is more important then personal aspirations, and to use the best methods possible at the time to find that information out. However, there's a limit to the amount of cruelty I can tolerate from the other departments I've seen being used today.

Its sights like this that cause me to wonder where the line is actually being drawn between 'us' and 'them.' I could _smell_ this man's fear, his grief. This day would torment this man for the rest of his life. The reality of him like this will torment me for the rest of mine. His closest friends, all of them gone, and one of them betrayed the rest. His pack, as it were, was utterly destroyed.

Prejudice.

Damn anti-werewolf prejudice. If people put even a part of the energy they spend on hate and fear of the condition into finding a cure, it would have happened long ago.

But this _man_ might be able to clarify what I saw yesterday. And it means asking him more questions. There are days I really hate this job. At least I have the choice in the manner I question him, even if I don't have the authority let him go.

"Guard, undo his manacles and get him a glass of water. He's a witness, not the one on trial here." The guard didn't move.

"He's my witness for one hour to do with as I please to get the information I need. Is this correct?" I say very coldly.

"That is correct, minister."

"Then undo the handcuffs and get us a pitcher of water and two glasses, and stop wasting my time!" I ordered harshly.

"On what authority?" I flash BOTH my ministry ids at him. I will definitely be facing an inquiry board. He cringed, than complied with all the speed I could have wished.

Lupin watched the exchange dazedly. I sat down as he rubbed his arms. I knew he would probably not remember this small kindness or our exchange later. I also removed the silver dagger and silver wire from his sight. The guard returned with the water pitcher and two glasses. Finally leaving us alone.

Lupin looked at me suspiciously. And asked very hoarsely, "What do you want to know?" There was a bit of belligerence and a touch of sarcasm in what he said. I was glad to hear it in his voice. They hadn't broken him yet.

"First, I'd like you to be able to stretch and get something to drink." To show the water was just water, I poured two glasses- then took a drink, and handed it to him. He downed it and went for another glass. As soon as he was breathing a bit more normally, and had about three glasses of water I started my hour clock.

I'd already heard his accounts about his friends. James Potter was noble, idealistic, and totally trusting of Sirius Black. Sirius had always portrayed himself as willing to die for the Potters, his godson, and Dumbledore's cause. James trusted him completely and made him their secret-keeper when they went into hiding. Peter Pettigrew was their friend, had been throughout school. He worked hard for Dumbledore as well as the ministry. He was quiet, and seemed content to stay in the shadow of his more dynamic friends. He also seemed to be the sounding board and peacekeeper of the group.

Lupin was watching me a little more alertly now.

"Please tell me why you didn't trust Sirius Black." Lupin was still under the effects of the veritaserum. I hated to start with such a blunt and personal question, but I didn't have much time. And throughout all his interviews, he'd said over and over that the Potters and Pettigrew trusted Black, but never that he did. That's a telling omission.

"He tried to use me to kill someone he didn't like." He couldn't stop himself from answering, and looked utterly horrified he had said it.

"Go on," I prompted.

"Back at Hogwarts he told Severus Snape where to find me when I was in my other form. If James hadn't intervened, he'd have turned us both into a killers." He looked close to tears at the admission. But something still didn't add up from what I saw on the site yesterday- murder in cold blood wouldn't have been so obvious.

I knew Snape had already told this story to the aurors, but his details made a lot more sense now.

"Why wouldn't Sirius trust you?" He looked confused by the abrupt switch, but answered, again – seemingly against his will.

"He was afraid of me, I think." He looked at his hands, and said quietly, "Because I haven't been around him or the others as much lately."

"Why?"

"I sent back two recruitment owls to _them_, refusing to join. I didn't want to put my friends in danger, and I didn't want my friends to think I'd joined up. I'm a werewolf- a dark creature. Voldemort wants, wanted, people like me in his ranks. I've been under suspicion for several years now by everyone but Dumbledore that I was going to change sides. I would never do that- but who else besides him is actually going to believe me?"

That was new information, and I'm glad that it's something that Crouch wasn't going to hear or Lupin would also be handed to the Dementors.

"And Peter?" I prompted.

"What about Peter?"

"How trusted was he, how trusting?"

"Peter was a brick, quiet, solid. The smallest of all of us, and possibly the strongest. He remained calm even when the rest of us weren't."

"Was he any good at dueling?"

"No."

But Peter still confronted Sirius on an open street. Interesting. All this only confirmed what he had said earlier, but wasn't all that helpful.

"Is there any chance in your mind that Sirius might be innocent?"

"I don't know. I want to say yes, but he was the secret keeper. Everyone involved knew that. Why? Why didn't they go with Dumbledore?" That was the question on too many minds right now. I decided to try a different angle.

"So when did you find out Sirius was to be the secret-keeper"

"The morning before he was supposed to go into hiding, he was checking on me after the full moon, and wanted to say goodbye."

"Sirius didn't trust you, but he told you this?" That didn't make any sense to me, but it was a leading question and so invalid. "Don't worry about answering that, I was just thinking out loud."

"Would you have found this information out eventually?" I asked instead.

"James and Lily actually told me themselves later that afternoon, they had already said their goodbye's to Peter at that point."

"So they also trusted both of you with that information. Who else knew that Sirius was to be the secret-keeper?"

"James, Lily, Sirius, Peter, Dumbledore, and myself. Sirius was going to perform the charm, and go into hiding until everything was over. That was hard for him, he was used to being on the front lines for Dumbledore. He didn't strike me as really able to sit back and do nothing, but I guess that protecting your best friend and godson counts as a big something overall." Veritaserium made someone prone to ramble.

He took another drink and I tried to place all this information into some type of sense. There were just too many things that weren't clear. The first is why did the confrontation happen in one of the busiest areas of muggle London in broad daylight. Then there was the cut, not blasted, finger of Peter's near the sewer.

The hole that seemed almost too well placed to produce the maximum amount of damage, and hang the muggles nearby. Finally, from all accounts, including Dumbledore's- was that despite a childish prank that almost cost two men their lives, Sirius was the last person anyone would have expected to ever betray the Potters. And finally as I pointed and drew out to Frank, there is still a lot of time unaccounted for between the Potters being attacked, and the attack on Petticrew.

"Who among the three of you, Lupin, Black, and Pettigrew, would be more likely to be a Death Eater?"

"Me, they tried to recruit me."

"And to your knowledge, they didn't try to recruit any of the others?"

"No." The word hung between us.

"Who would be the least likely of all of you to be recruited, in order?"

"James, Lily, Peter, Sirius."

"Are you a death eater?"

"NO!!" He pounded the table with his fist nearly knocking over the water glass.

"I believe you, Lupin. But one of the two wizards on the street yesterday most certainly was either a death-eater, or desperate. I'm not sure which. But Black is going to be the one they hang with it if we don't move quickly."

"Wait, you think he's innocent!?! Why?"

"The evidence doesn't yet tell me otherwise."

There was a knock at the door. My time was up.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to re-handcuff you. I want to apologize for the way the Ministry has treated you today, Remus Lupin. Hopefully they'll let you go soon." I gently re-latch the manacles making sure they are not as tight as are humanly possible. I can do that much for him at least. The guard came in just as I was finishing.

Always clean up your loose ends.

I raise my want to the guard and say, "Obliviate."

It wouldn't do anyone good for him to remember anything of who I am. That just makes the inquiries take longer. I remove the water pitcher, glasses, and spill leaving no trace that I was ever there. There is a reason, after all, why we're called "unspeakables."

I turn and look back at Lupin; he was staring at the wall in a stupor.

I returned to my office to compile these notes with the rest and to confer with Moody and Frank, and the rest of my team about the interview.

Later that night, I was still haunted by the image of Lupin staring blankly at the wall. I decided to wait outside the ministry to be sure he got home safely. I didn't think the ministry would be considerate enough to provide him a ride.

I was correct.

The bodily threw him out the front door, where he landed hard on the pavement. He pulled himself up and staggered away like he was drunk. About half way down the block, he stumbled again and fell. I ran over to assist, and pulled my wand out when a large shadow detached from a nearby building and moved towards us.

To my relief, it was Rubias Hagrid. And he looked rather surprised to see me here.

"Hagrid, We need to get him off the street. If any death-eaters see him like this..."

"Three Broomsticks. I already have a room reserved."

"But... how did you..."

"Went to his home to pay respects this morning, it was tore up something awful, saw the ministry warrant on his door, figured they brought him here and was waiting to convince him to go to the Broomsticks, at least for the next day or two."

"He's too out of it to try to fly on a broomstick, and I'm not able to apparate anyone with me... How can we get him there?"

"I still have Sirius' flying motorbike, that could work." His face darkened into a hard expression. "I was going to destroy it today, guess it's good I didn't get the chance." A _flying _motorbike? I couldn't help but smile at the engineering. Hope the Department of Muggle Artifacts doesn't get a hold of it.

"That should work. I'll get my broom and meet you there."

About a twenty minutes later I was talking to the owner of the Three Broomsticks, getting Hagrid a refund and putting Lupin's stay on the Ministry's account. I also went down to the post office to send messages to both Moody, my team leader, and my Ministry department head to let him know I authorized the expense, and I was not going to be in the office until late the next day and why. By the time I returned back to the Broomsticks Hagrid was getting Lupin's key and seeing him to his room. I turned down the bed while Hagrid got Lupin cleaned up as best as he could. Lupin was not in good shape and all but passed out onto the bed.

I heard a faint scratching at the window from an owl. I automatically reached for an owl treat from the pouch at my belt, and opened the window. There were two messages. The first was from Moody and Frank, telling me to take the whole day off from the office, and to guard Lupin until the veritaserum wore off. They also said the owl would stay nearby incase I needed to contact them. The other was from my department head affirming the use of the ministry account, and congratulating me on upholding the mission of the department. The Ministry owl accepted the treat, but stayed outside on the windowsill.

"What was that about?"

"I needed to let my office know I wasn't going to be in the office tomorrow, and also receiving approval to put the cost of the room here on the ministry account for the duration."

"Are ye daft? Now the whole ministry will know where he is!" He looked livid. If our positions were reversed, I know I would too.

"Only three people will know where Lupin is. Alaster Moody, my team leader, Frank Longbottom, one of my senior-mentors, and my department head who knows that it's best to keep information like this out of the hands of the ministry proper." Hagrid calmed down when I named Moody, one of Dumbledore's closest comrades.

"And who are you, and why are you so interested in Lupin? And how did you know my name?" He was looking really suspicious now.

"As to the last question, I was a Hogwarts student, Ravenclaw, class of 1976. We've also met in passing several times over the last three years running security at Dumbledore's various morale-boosting conventions. I'm one of the crime scene investigators on the Sirius Black case. Lupin here was requested as a character reference for both Pettigrew and Black, and has been sorely mistreated by the department of magical law enforcement today."

"But that still doesn't tell me WHO you are." Hagrid moved between Lupin and myself, picking up an umbrella as he went. I remembered that this was a man Dumbledore had trusted for nearly 40 years. It's up to our own discretion what we tell those who work outside the ministry.

"What I am about to say cannot leave this room, Hagrid." He nodded, looking confused. "My name is Lory Finnigan. As I already said, I am a Crime Scene Investigator. But I work for the Department of Mysteries, I'm an unspeakable in Magical Law Enforcement." It was a great honor to be approached by the recruiters right after I joined Moody's team. I'm not sure, but I think he recommended me.

The department acts as a kind of check and balance within the ministry itself, and as a depository for all the information that goes through the entire ministry on any given day. There are unspeakables within every department, though no one knows who they are, what they do, or how many. We hold duel assignments, working openly in the one department, but ultimately reporting to the Mysteries. There are those who work solely for the department, but they're mostly senior ministers or researchers.

Hagrid let out a low whistle and lowered his umbrella. "Well, no wonder you keep quiet about all that." He looked back at Lupin who wasn't moving that much. I walked over and checked his breathing, eye response, and pulse.

"Hagrid, I know you work a lot with magical creatures. What do you know about werewolves?"

"A bit from when he was at Hogwarts, why?" He seemed taken aback with the abrupt change of topic.

"I know the bite, and the monthly transformation changes their physiology a lot. I've seen other cases of veritaserum poisoning in average humans, but I've never seen a reaction quite this bad." He suddenly became all business while he checked Lupin over.

He quickly decided he was out of his depth when Lupin started having seizures.

While Hagrid restrained Lupin, I ran to the windowsill and scribbled a message to Carly, our team's expert on magical maladies and injuries telling her to get here quickly. I watched the owl float off into the night, and turned to help Hagrid.

About a ½ hour later we heard the sound of footsteps on our landing. Carly and Madame Pomfrey came running in.

"I was with her on rounds when your owl arrived. How is he? What's happened?" Carly sounded calm, even though she was moving quickly to Lupins side.

"Veritaserum Poisening, possibly also a bad inter-reaction reaction to stimulants." He's not having seizures right now, but he's had two in the last 30 minutes. Shock, and dehydration are both real possibilities. We'd take him to Mungo's, but he's a werewolf."

"Got it, we'll take it from here. Lory, I've got you covered- go back and report. Team, let's see if we can pull him through this."

I looked back once as I crossed the room. Lupin looked more dead than alive.

And I'm not sure he's going to thank us in the morning.

I went back to work. There was no way I could sleep tonight. I sent the Ministry owl back to wait in case Carly needed anything.

November 6, 1981 

Four days later while our team was preparing to present our findings and speculations, and request more time for investigating our unanswered questions- when we were told that yet again, the presentation wouldn't be necessary. Because of his family tree, Sirius Black was charged and sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban for the murders.

All Frank, and I could do was to put a copy of the final report, photos, and sketches into our growing file, filled with the cases we considered unsolved but had been officially closed. He added Sirius Black's name to his ever-growing list of people that went to prison without trial. Our team-leader Moody had requested us to keep this list updated for him. I was also adding the death-dates for the ones who died in prison.

I was never able to put a firm reason on things at the time, but I had a feeling Sirius was being punished for something he didn't do while the other duelist received an Order of Merlin first class medal posthumously for the confronting the supposed death-eater and traitor.

I became Lupin's shadow for most of the two years following the interrogation. I ran into Hagrid helping Lupin home one night, and he asked me to help him. Hagrid cared for all magical creatures, even the ones who were human 27 days of the moon-cycle. We were both more afraid _for _him then _of_ him. And we did our best to make sure that even in his worst stupor no one bothered him between the bars he frequented and the holes he lived in.

We also sat vigil many full moons outside the various sheds, shacks, and barns that he holed up in to be sure for _his_ sake he didn't get loose. And we checked on Lupin in the early mornings while he was still asleep, to be sure he didn't hurt himself overly much. I got to know Hagrid fairly well during that time. Various aurors, unspeakables, and hit men stalked him as well, but as soon as it was known that I was following him with the unofficial approval of my department, that soon diminished.


	6. Chapter 3, Fall 1983, Interlude

Fall, 1983 

I couldn't keep quiet any longer.

"Bagman is an idiot, a rake, a cad, and a horrible gambler. But even I'd play the odds that he ISN'T a death-eater!"

"And where do you get that opinion from?"

"I worked with his trainer in the Wasps for awhile."

"E_m hem, _You're a bit young for that aren't you?" The voice dripped with sarcasm and scorn, and I couldn't tell from where in the room it precisely came.

But before I could respond another voice spoke up, "She's older then she looks."

The debate about what to do regarding the remaining death-eaters had been going on for hours at this point. The accusation of Wasp player Ludo Bagman has the entire sporting world in a near state of panic. So two teams of aurors, along with representatives from the department of games and sports, as well as international cooperation were gathered to figure out what to do. We all had one goal in mind, to stop the literal "witch-hunt" going on in the ranks.

The debate also continued in the Department of Mysteries. For the first time since I started at the ministry, the entire staff was gathered to discuss these issues.

We had to use one of the trial rooms to hold us all. Sometimes it amazes me how many people actually work for this department. None of us really know who all of the others are, because inside the office, we tend to use pseudonyms.

"What we need is someone on the inside of both scenes who actually blends in. Voldemort was once a Hogwarts student. It seems many of his followers were also Hogwarts students. Eventually, the children of the Death-eaters that walked free will become Hogwarts students. What we need is someone who is comfortably invisible on the inside when that happens!"

Our department head was really into his speech at this point. We had been briefed on this question and each team had to present a solution at today's meeting.

My team went last, and Frank our most senior member, was our spokesperson.

"Quidditch." He said simply. "The students enjoy watching quidditch. They follow the professional teams. Without realizing it, they also follow the support staff that keeps the players fit and trim to keep playing." He paused. "We have an ex-professional quidditch trainer on our team, one we call Myra Finn."

"Moody brought Myra onto his investigative team working for Dumbledore when she applied after the Quidditch league was shut down. We quickly recruited her for this department for her analytical skills, attention to detail, and objectivity. At the same time, as with many of our members- she also began being trained by Moody and I as an auror."

"Now, we'd like train her to watch and guard with the others during large quidditch matches and dueling competitions. To keep an eye for any recruitment attempts or sabotage of, or by, players. Very few people on the either circuit even know she's with the ministry at all on a temporary basis. She's an expert at blending in where she's needed, and has the necessary skills as a flight trainer and as a talent scout for both the Irish and Scottish teams. She could join the ranks of our undercover aurors who work outside the ministry- but she could be deep undercover within the circuits, rather then just working security."

"Our next proposition is to ask Headmaster Dumbledore to allow her to come in on a part-time basis as a private flying tutor, and to teach a general defensive flying course when she's not needed on the Quidditch circuit."

"Part-time! What good would that do? We're looking for constant surveillance!"

We were waiting for this. Resisting the urge to smile at the predictability, it was my turn to speak.

"Seniors, part-time means that changes the students go through slowly would be more apparent. Also, the school already has a full-time flight instructor- an old colleague of mine Madame Hooch. The last thing we want to do is draw attention to ourselves."

"By remaining undercover I can work both jobs, which compliment each other very well timing-wise, and something that hasn't been mentioned yet I've been on the competitive dueling circuit for nearly 8 years now- I'm a familiar face over there as well." I sat down. It was up to the Department head to decide that this point.

"I had no idea we had someone in our ranks that so accurately fit the job description." He said after a brief moments thought. "Are there any further suggestions or debate about this issue?" The room was silent, and ultimately voted to follow Frank's proposal. Mainly due to still being short staffed in the department from the attrition the war caused.

I was promoted to a full-time undercover auror position for the Department of Mysteries, and cross-working within the games and sports division of the ministry and law-enforcement. And my working team hadn't even changed with all of that.


	7. Chapter 4, Jan 1984, Saving Neville

January, 1984 

"Frank! Frank, you have to wake up! You have to tell us where Neville is!"

I could hear Harold still trying to get any sense out of him. He'd been trying for most of the last 20 minutes, at this point we all realized that the best we can do is try to find their son. The only thing we got out of Franks wife was that he was still somewhere in the house, _alive_, before she collapsed and stopped breathing.

Carly, the team's medic was still trying to stabilize her. I could hear them clearly in the next room as I search for any further signs as to why this happened. It had been over two years since Voldemorts downfall. Why this? Why now? Why them?

Steady, Finnegan. Moody always told us there'd be days like this.

It hit me that our team was now down to just the four of us.

"Neville, put your toys away! Now, son. You have to put them away, away, away...they go like highland soldiers..."

I return to the pantry where we found them. Frank was holding onto his wife like a lifeline, trying to keep her breathing. Both of them had been bruised and battered from the inside out, from that dammed cruciatius curse. It was humming out of them so badly it hurt anyone to be in physical contact with them.

I take a deep breath.

Profile.

There are toys scattered around, and tea on the table, two cups, two saucers, and a tippy-cup. They weren't expecting company. I walk back to the kitchen, where the door was clearly opened from the inside, but from the marks in the wall and a broken chain-lock was forced from the outside.

Visitors came, knocked at the back door. One of the two Longbottoms answered the door, and had it forced out of his or her hand. Spell marks on the wall. Both of them had been aurors long enough that they'd always keep their wands with them. One held the intruders off while the other probably put Neville out of harms way and ran back to find said intruders torturing their spouse. There had to have been more then three, they could have dealt with that few, unless they were upper-level death-eaters.

But they weren't killed outright. Either this lot didn't have the power to do it, or they weren't trying to kill them. It was torture. Torture was used for extracting information. Well, one female was stunned down in the yard still in her robes and mask. If I have to give her moer truth serum then they gave Lupin, we'll know what happened and why.

Frank was telling Neville to put the toys away again. I remember from visits to the house over the past five years that they had a nursery upstairs. I walk quickly to the front hall and run up stairs. I didn't hear it before, but I hear a faint tapping coming from one of the rooms.

"Neville? Neville sweetie, you can come out- it's auntie Lory."

I hear more faint scratching. Desperate parents do desperate things. I realize the door to the nursery is locked magically from the outside. Breaking the simple charm, I open the door. And there is a small three-year-old looking very lost and scared holding a blanket on the carpet. I bend down and open my arms to my Godson.

As he had done many times before, he ran into my arms. Thankfully, I had visited as much as I had and he recognized me. I rocked him until he fell asleep, exhausted. It didn't take that long. I remembered that his Grandmother didn't live all that far from here. I picked him up and carried him downstairs and let Harold and the remaining members of our team know where I was going.

"Thank the Light. Get the kid out of here, Lory. Mungo's is going to move them, and I don't think he's old enough yet to really understand what's going on." Thinking of the look on the little boy's face and how quiet he's been, I think he understands all too well. Then I hear a voice I didn't expect.

"Neville... All right?" It was Frank. He was lucid. I make sure the child is still sleeping and carry him over to Frank. It might help him to hold on if he sees his son.

"Yes, Frank, we have him. We're going to take him to your mothers until you get well, okay? You have to get well. For his sake." A look of tension left his face and body, a strange smile crept over his face. Then his eyes lost focus.

"He put his toys away, good boy." His eyes cleared again.

"Lory, check up on him until I can, you'll do that?" It cost him to say that, I could tell.

"Of course I will." He beckoned me to bring the boy closer to him. As he lightly touched the boys face, Neville's eyes opened. Franks said in a voice barely above a whisper: "I love you, son."

Then all sense left his eyes and he began babbling again.

I carried the boy out to where the broomsticks were. I found my Silver Arrow II, and flew off into the night wrapping an invisibility cloak around us as I flew. The boy was shaking with quiet crying.

Apparently one of my team members had contacted the senior Longbottom's, they were on their front porch as I un-cloaked and landed. I handed the boy over to his grandfather; I realized I had tears on my face. His grandmother was also openly weeping and her eyes held much turmoil.

She took two steps, placed her hands on my shoulders, briefly embraced me, backed up and said, "We both have lived with the fear that something like this was going to happen, my husband and I. Now it has, and we have to get on with our work. You go catch the bastards that did this, and I'll," she paused for a deep breath, "go take care of my grandson."

With much dignity and pride, she squared her shoulders and walked back into the house. I got back on my broomstick, re-cloaked, and flew back to the Longbottom's.

It was going to be a long night, and I had a prisoner to question.


	8. Chapter 5, April 1984, recovary

_April, 1984 - 4 moths later_

Harold and Carly decided to retire from the Ministry permanently. Seeing the way Crouch treated his own son at that farce of a trial, was just too much for a lot of aurors.

Harold bought into Quality Quidditch Supplies and was hoping to take over the Diagon Alley branch soon. Carly surprised us all and got married to her Hogwarts sweetheart in a quiet ceremony overlooking the sea. She accepted an offer of permanent employment from Mungo's, she seemed to be settling down and enjoying it. I received an offer to stay on at the ministry, and to see about the details after this sabbatical. I look down at the lands of my parents keep. I try to listen to the sounds of the winds and birds, rather then the sounds of screaming I keep hearing in my ears.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath of the clean air. When I open my eyes again, and looking out over the wall I see an owl heading towards me.

I automatically reach for the pouch of owl treats I carry, glad that the idleness hasn't broken all my habits. Receiving the treat gratefully after delivering its letter, it flew off. I cringe when I see the letter is from Professor Dumbledore at Hogwarts, but the content surprised me into a rare smile.

Dear Miss Lory Finnigan,

You have been recommended highly to me as an expert on old brooms and broomstick restoration. Hogwarts has received many brooms over the years as donations, and just received another such donation this spring term. When we went to put them away we discovered we are out of room in our broom barn.

A friend of mine at the ministry said you were taking some well-deserved time off, and might be looking for a change of pace for the duration. Hogwarts would like to offer you temporary employment as a broom sorter and technician. Compensation for your time can be worked out if you choose to join us here. As you will be considered staff, living accommodations, room and board here at Hogwarts will be provided.

Please either reply by owl, or come in person as soon as possible.

Sincerely,

Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

A broom sorter? Despite everything, I couldn't help but smile in anticipation.

Only once did I ever get a look inside the broom barn, and I remember it as some would a glimpse of tangible bliss. It was during my third year while I was being trained for Quidditch, and the Captain was trying to find a suitable broom for me as a chaser. The newer racing brooms were towards the front, but he made a comment about there being thousands of brooms in various states of repair in that building.

Even then I had a fascination with old brooms and trying to make them fly again. To be offered this as a job? I ran downstairs to tell my family the news.

A week later, I stood in the fully open doorway of the Hogwarts broom shed. My memory hadn't failed me; there were literally thousands of brooms here in the two-story barn. I'd outlined my plan of approach to Dumbledore this morning. First I bring every broom out onto the Quidditch field. Then I would sort the brooms by year and functionality, then make and model. Finally help while the necessary repairs and upgrades were made to the barn-roof, and foundation.

I'd be working side by side with Filch and Hagrid for that. We wanted to install multiple broom racks and magical lighting throughout the barn. And place brooms for general and advanced flying lessons in the rooms on the first floor, the more valuable racing brooms on the remodeled second. Finally, we would finish the remodeling of Madame Hooch's office, with plans she submitted to Dumbledore before she left for the summer term, and the addition of my office/living quarters as well as workroom.

With no students around, I figured this would take the whole summer and most of next fall. I will finally begin my part-time teaching assignment at that point and will technically be back on ¼ time at the ministry.

Well, first things first. Move the brooms to the Quidditch field so Hagrid and Filch can start on those repairs. I hold my wand at ready, and cast, "_UP!_"

As one, nearly every broom in the room floated off the ground, some fluttered weakly, while others didn't move. Directing the able ones to the Quidditch field, I notice Dumbledore, Filch, and Hagrid are sitting in the stands and watching the parade of brooms in the morning sunlight. When I get the first lot entirely through the entrance, I jump on one and fly among them, ordering them to hover about 4 feet above the ground two feet apart in rows. I can see a wide variety of makes models and years.

"Lets see, about three brooms, one for general use, one for racing, and one 'family broom" a year come on the market and have since before Hogwarts was founded." I mentally grid out the large field accordingly into thirds, and two of those columns I split into ten sub-sections.

With casting a visible grid spell, Filch, Hagrid, and Dumbledore saw a wide grid appear across the field.

In this first sorting, all I am concerned about is age and usability.

"_Sortire Anyo_." The brooms fly around like sparrows until they have placed themselves accordingly across the field. While they sort themselves out, I fly back for the next batch, opening every door and storage room in the barn as I go. I continue to do this until the shed is empty of all the brooms that are still able to move under their own momentum.

All in all, nearly 1200 brooms flew out, some of which dated from before Hogwart's founding. Some didn't fly straight, others looked a little chewed on by mice, or a bit weather worn, but all of these were still strong enough flyers to move without too much pressure from me.

I notice several house elves talking to Dumbledore, carrying trays of food. Hagrid and Filch had left at some point. I fly up into the stands when I see the professor motioning to me. "It looks like it will take some time for all of them to finish sorting themselves." He motions to the brooms still flying around. "Take some time out for lunch."

"Truthfully, Professor, as long as it's been for some of them to fly in the sun, I can't tell if they're sorting themselves or playing." I say laughingly, surprising myself. I know how much the professor values honesty, even if the truth is uncomfortable for the teller. His eyes twinkled at me through his spectacles and gave a small smile.

We eat a quiet lunch while the brooms slowly come to rest in rows inside the grid I laid out. Occasionally I have to redirect brooms that look like they're trying to escape. The sun is shining warmly on the entire scene, and I am hit with a wave of nostalgia of playing Quidditch here for the first time. How simple everything seemed then, and how long ago five years felt.

A small sigh escapes me, but doesn't escape Dumbledore's notice.

Dumbledore pulled a much-read letter out of his robes and handed it to me silently. I recognized Moody's handwriting immediately despite the more formal wording:

"Professor Dumbledore, I am writing in regards to a colleague of ours, Lory Finnigan. I'm sure you heard of what happened to the Longbottom's and after. Frank was a very valued member of our team, as well as her mentor. The ministry has put all of us on 6-month sabbatical for the duration, but after a brief visit, I don't think she's taking the idleness very well. She's never been one to sit still this long.

Lory has been working with your dark-arts defense league for about four years, do you think there's anything you could have her do full-time at Hogwarts while she regains her balance?"

Numbly, I drop the hand holding the letter and feel my shoulders slump.

"Is there anything you'd like to tell me, Lory?" I lean on the rail. I know Dumbledore would understand. I also know he is one person who will not betray confidences. And he wouldn't ask if he didn't want to know.

"It's been horrible for everyone these past several years, Professor. Chasing Voldemort, his followers, trying to discover who was involved by choice, who was not... The ministry had their hands full enough that many people went to Azkaban with only circumstantial evidence, and nothing solid. I have a file full of people who based on the physical evidence, just might be innocent. And a few, out walking around most definitely are not. But that's only part of it.

"There is the screaming, and the blood, and the victims, and the tears. Neville was only the most recent child I've had to deliver to other relatives when their parents were killed or worse. Then there are the children we found that didn't make it, to say nothing about those caught in the cross-fire." I had to blink quickly to clear my eyes.

"But Frank... he was my mentor, and more then that he was a friend. Not my first by a long shot that I've lost, but still it comes back to Voldemort. And his death-eaters trying to find out where he is to bring him back. I have no doubt they're going to succeed someday. And in the meantime some of the best defenders on our side lie rotting in Azkaban, kibble for the dementors." A beat my fist against the railing.

"Then about two weeks after the Crouch trial, I hit burn-out. It hurts to admit this, but as Moody kept telling me, find someone to talk to. Guess he finally arranged things so it would be you. Please, express my thanks to him when you see him next."

"My team got called into assist in one of those investigations and clean up we're working REALLY hard to keep the full details out of the papers. There was one town, like Hogsmeade, a fully magical community- thriving. Well, it was damaged pretty badly during the wars with the giants; many civilians were hurt and trampled. But that was where we finally caught the last three who tortured the Longbottom's, the Lestranges and Crouch's son."

"There were about ten others with them in an abandoned building, and they'd been cornered. Those three were the ones who held the ministry off while the rest disapparated. We didn't know that they were apperating into the two surrounding houses and one tenant building and putting the inhabitants to the wand and knife. Not until we'd bound the three at the building, and by then it was too late. They kept chanting as they ran through the streets, "Blood and death for our Master! Bring back Voldemort!"

"We finally got reinforcements, and bound those three for questioning. Warren, Harold, and I were called out to assist the other town guardians on the squad. I got into one of the burning houses, it was a mess." I realized I was wringing my hands again. I put my head down on the railing. The metal felt cool against my flushed skin. But with my eyes closed I could see the scene as clearly as if it were in front of me.

"I saw a death-eater with a knife to a toddlers throat, one who was not much older then Neville. He cast the cruciatius curse at me- not the first time I've felt that bone searing pain, but when it stopped I felt this rush of rage and hate as I'd never experienced before and hope never to experience again- hard on that came a building of power. And I did something I never even thought I was capable of, Professor. I cast an unforgivable at him. All of us had been taught how by Crouch, and told to use what we knew. I never have for all these years. But I killed that death-eater, right where he stood. I killed him. And the toddler he was holding so closely to him. "

"They found me in a corner, cradling that poor infant. Harold, and Moody found me. They got me out of there pretty quickly. I couldn't barely speak or take care of myself for almost a week; the spell took that much power out of me. It was weeks before I could do anything other then basic spells. Carly wasn't sure if I'd finished myself off or not. Harold did the paper write up for the Ministry."

"We've all been put on sabbatical ever since, and my team has mostly retired. I've been offered both severance pay as well as continued employment by the ministry. I've not really decided what to do. In the meantime, I just need a place to rebalance again, stay busy, and still feel useful."

I felt a strong hand on my shoulder both comforting and reassuring at the same time.

"Time will help with this, but I'm guessing it will truly never be okay for you. I too, am thankful that Moody sent you here for your retreat. Know that you are safe here, Lory. And you can stay as long as you need to fully recover. I shall inform the Ministry of that."

"Thank you, Professor." I notice two house-elves coming over for the lunch trays, one carrying a pumpkin-juice pitcher and a single glass that they leave behind. Dumbledore stood up and made his way back to the school, leaving me with a Quidditch stadium full of sorted broomsticks, all quietly hovering about four feet off the ground.

I grab the broomstick I was using and head back to the shed to start re-energizing and mobilizing the sluggish ones.

Its work I can do, almost find enjoyment doing, and needs done.

I'd managed to coax a few hundred of the reluctant brooms into flight and out onto the Quidditch field. I'd also dehexed a quite a few racing brooms and they were flying beautifully. I'm going to have to make a strong recommendation for anti-hexing spells in the future. I switched back to my own broom, grabbed my quick quotes quill and paper for the notes I needed to take.

Once all the brooms that were able to fly even a little bit were out on the field, I removed my movement charms from all the brooms gathered and set them into an automatic hover position. Many brooms immediately dropped, some of the older brooms all the way to the ground. I set a simple color charm on them to mark the handles of these brooms.

Next, I needed to run a load-bearing check to be sure that the brooms could safely carry weight. I cast a barrier and began to slowly increase the gravity around the rows of brooms. When 15 brooms dropped immediately at 11.3 kg (aprx. 25lbs), my suspicions were confirmed. I cast a second color on these handles, and noted down time and pressure per color with my quick-quotes quill. I cast the more complicated charm to steadily increase the weight so that every ¼ hour would add another 12 kg. Every 15 minutes I'd mark the brooms that fell with a different color and take notes.

About four hours later, around teatime, Dumbledore reappeared with a handsome well-dressed couple carrying a toddler. It was people like this at the ministry that kept even the aurors coming into the office cleaned and pressed unless there wasn't any other choice. Dumbledore waved me over and introduced us.

"Lory Finnigan- this is Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, and their son Draco. Lucius has been sent by the student governors to speak with you regarding your position and terms of employment." In other words this blond, impeccably robed gentlemen is here to justify my position and the terms of my wages.

I suddenly remembered Malfoy from my days at Hogwarts and work at the Ministry. I look quite a bit different from then, but even so the Slytherins usually didn't have eyes for Ravenclaw students. I remember that he prided himself on being 'pure-blood' and good at Quidditch. I remember the year we won the Quidditch cup after a surprise 360-10 win against his team. I smile from the memory and shake his hand.

"My wages haven't been discussed yet." I phrase it as a question.

"We also haven't discussed why or for what Dumbledore hired you." His voice was smooth, and dripping with scorn. As if he thought the entire world was beneath him. I'd heard others speak like that, and all of them were death-eaters and other dark-magicians I'd questioned. Looking at the field I made a quick-note in the margin of my notepad to make an inquiry about him. I looked back to Dumbledore while he answered the question.

"Over the years Hogwarts has received generous donations of broomsticks from our alumni for students use. When we sent to store this years donations, we found we had run out of room in the broom barn. Miss Finnigan came highly recommended as an expert to sort and repair the salvageable and remove the non-working brooms from service."

"Non-working brooms?" He looked slightly non-pulsed that Hogwarts had a stockpile of brooms that didn't fly.

I answered his question by pointing to the ones on the ground. "Those are the ones who have dropped out under 68 kg (about 150lbs), the lower average weight of your older male students. Some were unable to hover under their own power- but even those types of problems can often be repaired once identified. As for the rest still in the barn, they still need to be diagnosed."

"How many brooms are out there all together, and how many left in the barn that don't fly?"

"Approximately 1,400 on the field. Most likely a quarter of those are not going to pass this initial inspection. They range from the newest models, all the way to brooms from before the founding. There are still a few hundred burn-outs left in the barn." A look of complete disdain passed over his face. He's the type who will only fly the best out there regardless of price, fly it broom into the ground, then replace it. His next words only confirmed this assessment.

"Tell me, again, why this isn't a waste of time?"

"In 10 years when your son is here, he could end up on a broom that can't properly support his weight." Narcissa clutched Draco to her tightly.

"I will be making the necessary repairs and maintenance to the brooms, as well as working on the barn to improve storage of the brooms."

"And how many of those brooms are from the last, say 80 years?"

"The ones on the bottom-right quarter of the field." There were three brooms on the ground there, I'd have to do some research but I'm guessing a manufactures defect. Lucius continued speaking.

"I'll have to speak with the other governors, but I see no reason to keep brooms older then say, 75 years. But how many brooms will that leave us with?"

"Maybe 5 or 6 hundred at best. The school charter insists there be at least one fully functional broom per student and staff member in case of an emergency that requires full evacuation. I'm guessing that's why we still have brooms dating back to the founding." I saw him visibly cringe. While the thought of being able to fly on a broom with that much history thrills me, it seemed to disgust him. Obviously has never tried it. "Even if you bought every broom on the used market, and the cheapest of the generic brooms out there- your average price for a decent broom is still 15 galleons a piece." I watched him do the mental calculations based on current enrollment. The student population is down right now, but a student boom is expected in several years as the post-war babies start entering Hogwarts.

"I'll have to speak with the governors, but I'm sure I can safely say burn the lot of the ones left in the barn. A complete waste of time." He sneered.

"As for the rest, save enough to cover the staff, and the past years enrollment plus the difference of this years enrollment. Choose from the youngest brooms first, and then burn the rest of those as well. We don't need to be storing such waste. Do upgrade the barn, I remember it from my students days." Another visible and dramatic shudder for emphasis.

"Now, about your pay..." His voice trailed off. I was looking back over field at some of the older brooms drooping under the increasing weight. I think really, really quickly, forming a plan.

"Dumbledore suggested 25 galleons a day including your housing and boarding costs. Do you have any objections to that?" It was obvious that he did.

All right Finnigan, give him an offer they cannot refuse.

"How about 12 galleons/day including room and board, and the first choice of any broom you and the other governors decide for the burn pile?" Dumbledore looked stunned at my counter offer.

"As long as we get a fair demonstration that all your doing is hauling off the junk, I'm sure that will be acceptable. I'll present these new terms to the Governors. I'll see myself out, Dumbledor. Narcissa?" He beckoned to his wife who immediately followed carrying Draco.

Dumbledore turned to me, "Are you sure you want that little for all this work?"

"Little? Were talking about close to 300 brooms, not counting the ones left in the barn, and some of those are _working_ 'antiques'!" I could barely contain my excitement. "Do you know what this means to me?"

"You finally get the seed for that broom restoration business of yours." He said with dawning realization, "and with the combined wages this summer plus the bones compensation you receive from the ministry for combat pay, you can purchase that broom and wand tree farm and build the workshop you were telling be about last week. Very clever move, Miss Lory- very clever indeed."

I just smiled.

I don't believe it.

I don't believe it.

I don't believe it.

But here it is, in my hands. An actual Silver Arrow I, Silver Special- Artemis Edition. Only 600 of these were ever made. I could just make out the silver birch, silver oak, and ironwood handle through the accumulated dust and cobwebs. It had been lying in the corner of this dark room. It's birch-twig, broom, and heather brush end had been chewed by mice.

The line was pure and not warped, the balance was still sound, the grip smooth and firm. The magic was totally dormant from complete disuse. Even under the grime, it was beautiful. I wondered if I could respell it to fly. I currently ride a Silver Arrow II that I refurbished, and I have yet to ride a broom that rivals it. But I couldn't help but wonder if I would find this one superior as some of the oldsters in the quidditch league claim.

I heard Dumbledore's heavy footsteps on the landing outside.

"Lory?' He called out.

"In here, Professor." His head appeared in the storage room doorway.

"The governors have decided to accept the terms of your pay. But after their walkthrough yesterday evening, they see no reason to keep any of the brooms left in here. Point of fact, they offered to just burn the place and its contents down and start over. I pointed out that Madame Hooch's office and living quarters were in the building."

To my surprise, I started laughing in relief. Dumbledore put his hand on my shoulder, with a look of surprise on his face. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Its mine, Professor! It doesn't fly now, but it can with work. This one is mine! The best broom supposedly made this century!" I start laughing with the tears still coursing down my face. I hand him the broomstick I'm holding. When restored the broom might be worth more by itself then the rest of the brooms out on the Quidditch field. He looks at it with interest, eyes widening with sudden understanding.

"And they would have it burned. Best that such a broom goes to such a caring aficionado. How many more rooms to clear out before Hagrid and Filch can start the remodeling and repairs?"

"Three more on this floor. I'm searching the dust practically by hand for this last lot. The ones that couldn't fly for lack of a tail-brush, or were too dormant to be picked up by the charms. I think that every broom that has ever come to Hogwarts is still here." Dumbledore smiled, something I've seen him do very rarely of late.

"I think I'd like to expand the proposed display room waiting area of the brooms of Hogwarts, out into the hallway, between Madame Hooch's office and mine. We'd been tossing this idea around, and I think she'd like it. There are also some of these I'd like to clean up and send over to the International Quidditch Museum in Scotland as a Hogwarts donation. They've been wanting even non-flying examples of the early brooms for ages, this would be a great service to them."

"Sounds like a good idea." He said approvingly. "And since the governors have decided they don't care what becomes of these brooms, we only need to inform them of our decision." Dumbledore followed me to the next room.

We received another surprise, this time a broom the size and girth of a small tree.

"Ah! I wondered where that one had gone! That's Hagrid's student broom. We had it special ordered when we found out he would be joining us here."

"I wonder if he would like to have it. The wood-eater repelling charms are still in tact, so I'm guessing the primary problem is simply dormancy. I could give it a full overhaul to be sure?"

"I think he would like that. He's often said that regular brooms make him nervous, but that bike of his is too noisy for patrolling the forest. Go ahead, that sounds like a splendid idea."

"_Winardium Leviosa_" It floated off the floor, and I directed it out the door, over the railing, and out to the work area I had set up on the quidditch field.

Compared to the previous rooms, the last room was almost disappointing. There were about fifteen old racing brooms that would probably go to the either the display case or the museum. Dumbledore helped me levitate them out to the two piles of racing and non-racing brooms on the waterproofed field. I was still carrying the Silver Arrow 1 to add to the pile of brooms I had specially chosen to have transported to my own workshop.

The final broom removal being done, we went to tell Hagrid and Filch that the barn was ready for the remodeling.


	9. Chapter 5, New Employment

_April, 1984 - 4 moths later_

Harold and Carly decided to retire from the Ministry permanently. Seeing the way Crouch treated his own son at that farce of a trial, was just too much for a lot of aurors.

Harold bought into Quality Quidditch Supplies and was hoping to take over the Diagon Alley branch soon. Carly surprised us all and got married to her Hogwarts sweetheart in a quiet ceremony overlooking the sea. She accepted an offer of permanent employment from Mungo's, she seemed to be settling down and enjoying it. I received an offer to stay on at the ministry, and to see about the details after this sabbatical. I look down at the lands of my parents keep. I try to listen to the sounds of the winds and birds, rather then the sounds of screaming I keep hearing in my ears.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath of the clean air. When I open my eyes again, and looking out over the wall I see an owl heading towards me.

I automatically reach for the pouch of owl treats I carry, glad that the idleness hasn't broken all my habits. Receiving the treat gratefully after delivering its letter, it flew off. I cringe when I see the letter is from Professor Dumbledore at Hogwarts, but the content surprised me into a rare smile.

Dear Miss Lory Finnigan,

You have been recommended highly to me as an expert on old brooms and broomstick restoration. Hogwarts has received many brooms over the years as donations, and just received another such donation this spring term. When we went to put them away we discovered we are out of room in our broom barn.

A friend of mine at the ministry said you were taking some well-deserved time off, and might be looking for a change of pace for the duration. Hogwarts would like to offer you temporary employment as a broom sorter and technician. Compensation for your time can be worked out if you choose to join us here. As you will be considered staff, living accommodations, room and board here at Hogwarts will be provided.

Please either reply by owl, or come in person as soon as possible.

Sincerely,

Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

A broom sorter? Despite everything, I couldn't help but smile in anticipation.

Only once did I ever get a look inside the broom barn, and I remember it as some would a glimpse of tangible bliss. It was during my third year while I was being trained for Quidditch, and the Captain was trying to find a suitable broom for me as a chaser. The newer racing brooms were towards the front, but he made a comment about there being thousands of brooms in various states of repair in that building.

Even then I had a fascination with old brooms and trying to make them fly again. To be offered this as a job? I ran downstairs to tell my family the news.

A week later, I stood in the fully open doorway of the Hogwarts broom shed. My memory hadn't failed me; there were literally thousands of brooms here in the two-story barn. I'd outlined my plan of approach to Dumbledore this morning. First I bring every broom out onto the Quidditch field. Then I would sort the brooms by year and functionality, then make and model. Finally help while the necessary repairs and upgrades were made to the barn-roof, and foundation.

I'd be working side by side with Filch and Hagrid for that. We wanted to install multiple broom racks and magical lighting throughout the barn. And place brooms for general and advanced flying lessons in the rooms on the first floor, the more valuable racing brooms on the remodeled second. Finally, we would finish the remodeling of Madame Hooch's office, with plans she submitted to Dumbledore before she left for the summer term, and the addition of my office/living quarters as well as workroom.

With no students around, I figured this would take the whole summer and most of next fall. I will finally begin my part-time teaching assignment at that point and will technically be back on ¼ time at the ministry.

Well, first things first. Move the brooms to the Quidditch field so Hagrid and Filch can start on those repairs. I hold my wand at ready, and cast, "_UP!_"

As one, nearly every broom in the room floated off the ground, some fluttered weakly, while others didn't move. Directing the able ones to the Quidditch field, I notice Dumbledore, Filch, and Hagrid are sitting in the stands and watching the parade of brooms in the morning sunlight. When I get the first lot entirely through the entrance, I jump on one and fly among them, ordering them to hover about 4 feet above the ground two feet apart in rows. I can see a wide variety of makes models and years.

"Lets see, about three brooms, one for general use, one for racing, and one 'family broom" a year come on the market and have since before Hogwarts was founded." I mentally grid out the large field accordingly into thirds, and two of those columns I split into ten sub-sections.

With casting a visible grid spell, Filch, Hagrid, and Dumbledore saw a wide grid appear across the field.

In this first sorting, all I am concerned about is age and usability.

"_Sortire Anyo_." The brooms fly around like sparrows until they have placed themselves accordingly across the field. While they sort themselves out, I fly back for the next batch, opening every door and storage room in the barn as I go. I continue to do this until the shed is empty of all the brooms that are still able to move under their own momentum.

All in all, nearly 1200 brooms flew out, some of which dated from before Hogwart's founding. Some didn't fly straight, others looked a little chewed on by mice, or a bit weather worn, but all of these were still strong enough flyers to move without too much pressure from me.

I notice several house elves talking to Dumbledore, carrying trays of food. Hagrid and Filch had left at some point. I fly up into the stands when I see the professor motioning to me. "It looks like it will take some time for all of them to finish sorting themselves." He motions to the brooms still flying around. "Take some time out for lunch."

"Truthfully, Professor, as long as it's been for some of them to fly in the sun, I can't tell if they're sorting themselves or playing." I say laughingly, surprising myself. I know how much the professor values honesty, even if the truth is uncomfortable for the teller. His eyes twinkled at me through his spectacles and gave a small smile.

We eat a quiet lunch while the brooms slowly come to rest in rows inside the grid I laid out. Occasionally I have to redirect brooms that look like they're trying to escape. The sun is shining warmly on the entire scene, and I am hit with a wave of nostalgia of playing Quidditch here for the first time. How simple everything seemed then, and how long ago five years felt.

A small sigh escapes me, but doesn't escape Dumbledore's notice.

Dumbledore pulled a much-read letter out of his robes and handed it to me silently. I recognized Moody's handwriting immediately despite the more formal wording:

"Professor Dumbledore, I am writing in regards to a colleague of ours, Lory Finnigan. I'm sure you heard of what happened to the Longbottom's and after. Frank was a very valued member of our team, as well as her mentor. The ministry has put all of us on 6-month sabbatical for the duration, but after a brief visit, I don't think she's taking the idleness very well. She's never been one to sit still this long.

Lory has been working with your dark-arts defense league for about four years, do you think there's anything you could have her do full-time at Hogwarts while she regains her balance?"

Numbly, I drop the hand holding the letter and feel my shoulders slump.

"Is there anything you'd like to tell me, Lory?" I lean on the rail. I know Dumbledore would understand. I also know he is one person who will not betray confidences. And he wouldn't ask if he didn't want to know.

"It's been horrible for everyone these past several years, Professor. Chasing Voldemort, his followers, trying to discover who was involved by choice, who was not... The ministry had their hands full enough that many people went to Azkaban with only circumstantial evidence, and nothing solid. I have a file full of people who based on the physical evidence, just might be innocent. And a few, out walking around most definitely are not. But that's only part of it.

"There is the screaming, and the blood, and the victims, and the tears. Neville was only the most recent child I've had to deliver to other relatives when their parents were killed or worse. Then there are the children we found that didn't make it, to say nothing about those caught in the cross-fire." I had to blink quickly to clear my eyes.

"But Frank... he was my mentor, and more then that he was a friend. Not my first by a long shot that I've lost, but still it comes back to Voldemort. And his death-eaters trying to find out where he is to bring him back. I have no doubt they're going to succeed someday. And in the meantime some of the best defenders on our side lie rotting in Azkaban, kibble for the dementors." A beat my fist against the railing.

"Then about two weeks after the Crouch trial, I hit burn-out. It hurts to admit this, but as Moody kept telling me, find someone to talk to. Guess he finally arranged things so it would be you. Please, express my thanks to him when you see him next."

"My team got called into assist in one of those investigations and clean up we're working REALLY hard to keep the full details out of the papers. There was one town, like Hogsmeade, a fully magical community- thriving. Well, it was damaged pretty badly during the wars with the giants; many civilians were hurt and trampled. But that was where we finally caught the last three who tortured the Longbottom's, the Lestranges and Crouch's son."

"There were about ten others with them in an abandoned building, and they'd been cornered. Those three were the ones who held the ministry off while the rest disapparated. We didn't know that they were apperating into the two surrounding houses and one tenant building and putting the inhabitants to the wand and knife. Not until we'd bound the three at the building, and by then it was too late. They kept chanting as they ran through the streets, "Blood and death for our Master! Bring back Voldemort!"

"We finally got reinforcements, and bound those three for questioning. Warren, Harold, and I were called out to assist the other town guardians on the squad. I got into one of the burning houses, it was a mess." I realized I was wringing my hands again. I put my head down on the railing. The metal felt cool against my flushed skin. But with my eyes closed I could see the scene as clearly as if it were in front of me.

"I saw a death-eater with a knife to a toddlers throat, one who was not much older then Neville. He cast the cruciatius curse at me- not the first time I've felt that bone searing pain, but when it stopped I felt this rush of rage and hate as I'd never experienced before and hope never to experience again- hard on that came a building of power. And I did something I never even thought I was capable of, Professor. I cast an unforgivable at him. All of us had been taught how by Crouch, and told to use what we knew. I never have for all these years. But I killed that death-eater, right where he stood. I killed him. And the toddler he was holding so closely to him. "

"They found me in a corner, cradling that poor infant. Harold, and Moody found me. They got me out of there pretty quickly. I couldn't barely speak or take care of myself for almost a week; the spell took that much power out of me. It was weeks before I could do anything other then basic spells. Carly wasn't sure if I'd finished myself off or not. Harold did the paper write up for the Ministry."

"We've all been put on sabbatical ever since, and my team has mostly retired. I've been offered both severance pay as well as continued employment by the ministry. I've not really decided what to do. In the meantime, I just need a place to rebalance again, stay busy, and still feel useful."

I felt a strong hand on my shoulder both comforting and reassuring at the same time.

"Time will help with this, but I'm guessing it will truly never be okay for you. I too, am thankful that Moody sent you here for your retreat. Know that you are safe here, Lory. And you can stay as long as you need to fully recover. I shall inform the Ministry of that."

"Thank you, Professor." I notice two house-elves coming over for the lunch trays, one carrying a pumpkin-juice pitcher and a single glass that they leave behind. Dumbledore stood up and made his way back to the school, leaving me with a Quidditch stadium full of sorted broomsticks, all quietly hovering about four feet off the ground.

I grab the broomstick I was using and head back to the shed to start re-energizing and mobilizing the sluggish ones.

Its work I can do, almost find enjoyment doing, and needs done.

I'd managed to coax a few hundred of the reluctant brooms into flight and out onto the Quidditch field. I'd also dehexed a quite a few racing brooms and they were flying beautifully. I'm going to have to make a strong recommendation for anti-hexing spells in the future. I switched back to my own broom, grabbed my quick quotes quill and paper for the notes I needed to take.

Once all the brooms that were able to fly even a little bit were out on the field, I removed my movement charms from all the brooms gathered and set them into an automatic hover position. Many brooms immediately dropped, some of the older brooms all the way to the ground. I set a simple color charm on them to mark the handles of these brooms.

Next, I needed to run a load-bearing check to be sure that the brooms could safely carry weight. I cast a barrier and began to slowly increase the gravity around the rows of brooms. When 15 brooms dropped immediately at 11.3 kg (aprx. 25lbs), my suspicions were confirmed. I cast a second color on these handles, and noted down time and pressure per color with my quick-quotes quill. I cast the more complicated charm to steadily increase the weight so that every ¼ hour would add another 12 kg. Every 15 minutes I'd mark the brooms that fell with a different color and take notes.

About four hours later, around teatime, Dumbledore reappeared with a handsome well-dressed couple carrying a toddler. It was people like this at the ministry that kept even the aurors coming into the office cleaned and pressed unless there wasn't any other choice. Dumbledore waved me over and introduced us.

"Lory Finnigan- this is Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, and their son Draco. Lucius has been sent by the student governors to speak with you regarding your position and terms of employment." In other words this blond, impeccably robed gentlemen is here to justify my position and the terms of my wages.

I suddenly remembered Malfoy from my days at Hogwarts and work at the Ministry. I look quite a bit different from then, but even so the Slytherins usually didn't have eyes for Ravenclaw students. I remember that he prided himself on being 'pure-blood' and good at Quidditch. I remember the year we won the Quidditch cup after a surprise 360-10 win against his team. I smile from the memory and shake his hand.

"My wages haven't been discussed yet." I phrase it as a question.

"We also haven't discussed why or for what Dumbledore hired you." His voice was smooth, and dripping with scorn. As if he thought the entire world was beneath him. I'd heard others speak like that, and all of them were death-eaters and other dark-magicians I'd questioned. Looking at the field I made a quick-note in the margin of my notepad to make an inquiry about him. I looked back to Dumbledore while he answered the question.

"Over the years Hogwarts has received generous donations of broomsticks from our alumni for students use. When we sent to store this years donations, we found we had run out of room in the broom barn. Miss Finnigan came highly recommended as an expert to sort and repair the salvageable and remove the non-working brooms from service."

"Non-working brooms?" He looked slightly non-pulsed that Hogwarts had a stockpile of brooms that didn't fly.

I answered his question by pointing to the ones on the ground. "Those are the ones who have dropped out under 68 kg (about 150lbs), the lower average weight of your older male students. Some were unable to hover under their own power- but even those types of problems can often be repaired once identified. As for the rest still in the barn, they still need to be diagnosed."

"How many brooms are out there all together, and how many left in the barn that don't fly?"

"Approximately 1,400 on the field. Most likely a quarter of those are not going to pass this initial inspection. They range from the newest models, all the way to brooms from before the founding. There are still a few hundred burn-outs left in the barn." A look of complete disdain passed over his face. He's the type who will only fly the best out there regardless of price, fly it broom into the ground, then replace it. His next words only confirmed this assessment.

"Tell me, again, why this isn't a waste of time?"

"In 10 years when your son is here, he could end up on a broom that can't properly support his weight." Narcissa clutched Draco to her tightly.

"I will be making the necessary repairs and maintenance to the brooms, as well as working on the barn to improve storage of the brooms."

"And how many of those brooms are from the last, say 80 years?"

"The ones on the bottom-right quarter of the field." There were three brooms on the ground there, I'd have to do some research but I'm guessing a manufactures defect. Lucius continued speaking.

"I'll have to speak with the other governors, but I see no reason to keep brooms older then say, 75 years. But how many brooms will that leave us with?"

"Maybe 5 or 6 hundred at best. The school charter insists there be at least one fully functional broom per student and staff member in case of an emergency that requires full evacuation. I'm guessing that's why we still have brooms dating back to the founding." I saw him visibly cringe. While the thought of being able to fly on a broom with that much history thrills me, it seemed to disgust him. Obviously has never tried it. "Even if you bought every broom on the used market, and the cheapest of the generic brooms out there- your average price for a decent broom is still 15 galleons a piece." I watched him do the mental calculations based on current enrollment. The student population is down right now, but a student boom is expected in several years as the post-war babies start entering Hogwarts.

"I'll have to speak with the governors, but I'm sure I can safely say burn the lot of the ones left in the barn. A complete waste of time." He sneered.

"As for the rest, save enough to cover the staff, and the past years enrollment plus the difference of this years enrollment. Choose from the youngest brooms first, and then burn the rest of those as well. We don't need to be storing such waste. Do upgrade the barn, I remember it from my students days." Another visible and dramatic shudder for emphasis.

"Now, about your pay..." His voice trailed off. I was looking back over field at some of the older brooms drooping under the increasing weight. I think really, really quickly, forming a plan.

"Dumbledore suggested 25 galleons a day including your housing and boarding costs. Do you have any objections to that?" It was obvious that he did.

All right Finnigan, give him an offer they cannot refuse.

"How about 12 galleons/day including room and board, and the first choice of any broom you and the other governors decide for the burn pile?" Dumbledore looked stunned at my counter offer.

"As long as we get a fair demonstration that all your doing is hauling off the junk, I'm sure that will be acceptable. I'll present these new terms to the Governors. I'll see myself out, Dumbledor. Narcissa?" He beckoned to his wife who immediately followed carrying Draco.

Dumbledore turned to me, "Are you sure you want that little for all this work?"

"Little? Were talking about close to 300 brooms, not counting the ones left in the barn, and some of those are _working_ 'antiques'!" I could barely contain my excitement. "Do you know what this means to me?"

"You finally get the seed for that broom restoration business of yours." He said with dawning realization, "and with the combined wages this summer plus the bones compensation you receive from the ministry for combat pay, you can purchase that broom and wand tree farm and build the workshop you were telling be about last week. Very clever move, Miss Lory- very clever indeed."

I just smiled.

I don't believe it.

I don't believe it.

I don't believe it.

But here it is, in my hands. An actual Silver Arrow I, Silver Special- Artemis Edition. Only 600 of these were ever made. I could just make out the silver birch, silver oak, and ironwood handle through the accumulated dust and cobwebs. It had been lying in the corner of this dark room. It's birch-twig, broom, and heather brush end had been chewed by mice.

The line was pure and not warped, the balance was still sound, the grip smooth and firm. The magic was totally dormant from complete disuse. Even under the grime, it was beautiful. I wondered if I could respell it to fly. I currently ride a Silver Arrow II that I refurbished, and I have yet to ride a broom that rivals it. But I couldn't help but wonder if I would find this one superior as some of the oldsters in the quidditch league claim.

I heard Dumbledore's heavy footsteps on the landing outside.

"Lory?' He called out.

"In here, Professor." His head appeared in the storage room doorway.

"The governors have decided to accept the terms of your pay. But after their walkthrough yesterday evening, they see no reason to keep any of the brooms left in here. Point of fact, they offered to just burn the place and its contents down and start over. I pointed out that Madame Hooch's office and living quarters were in the building."

To my surprise, I started laughing in relief. Dumbledore put his hand on my shoulder, with a look of surprise on his face. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Its mine, Professor! It doesn't fly now, but it can with work. This one is mine! The best broom supposedly made this century!" I start laughing with the tears still coursing down my face. I hand him the broomstick I'm holding. When restored the broom might be worth more by itself then the rest of the brooms out on the Quidditch field. He looks at it with interest, eyes widening with sudden understanding.

"And they would have it burned. Best that such a broom goes to such a caring aficionado. How many more rooms to clear out before Hagrid and Filch can start the remodeling and repairs?"

"Three more on this floor. I'm searching the dust practically by hand for this last lot. The ones that couldn't fly for lack of a tail-brush, or were too dormant to be picked up by the charms. I think that every broom that has ever come to Hogwarts is still here." Dumbledore smiled, something I've seen him do very rarely of late.

"I think I'd like to expand the proposed display room waiting area of the brooms of Hogwarts, out into the hallway, between Madame Hooch's office and mine. We'd been tossing this idea around, and I think she'd like it. There are also some of these I'd like to clean up and send over to the International Quidditch Museum in Scotland as a Hogwarts donation. They've been wanting even non-flying examples of the early brooms for ages, this would be a great service to them."

"Sounds like a good idea." He said approvingly. "And since the governors have decided they don't care what becomes of these brooms, we only need to inform them of our decision." Dumbledore followed me to the next room.

We received another surprise, this time a broom the size and girth of a small tree.

"Ah! I wondered where that one had gone! That's Hagrid's student broom. We had it special ordered when we found out he would be joining us here."

"I wonder if he would like to have it. The wood-eater repelling charms are still in tact, so I'm guessing the primary problem is simply dormancy. I could give it a full overhaul to be sure?"

"I think he would like that. He's often said that regular brooms make him nervous, but that bike of his is too noisy for patrolling the forest. Go ahead, that sounds like a splendid idea."

"_Winardium Leviosa_" It floated off the floor, and I directed it out the door, over the railing, and out to the work area I had set up on the quidditch field.

Compared to the previous rooms, the last room was almost disappointing. There were about fifteen old racing brooms that would probably go to the either the display case or the museum. Dumbledore helped me levitate them out to the two piles of racing and non-racing brooms on the waterproofed field. I was still carrying the Silver Arrow 1 to add to the pile of brooms I had specially chosen to have transported to my own workshop.

The final broom removal being done, we went to tell Hagrid and Filch that the barn was ready for the remodeling.


	10. Chapter 6, Summer 1984, conversations wi...

July 1984 

"So, you hired Severus Snape? What position?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at me.

Dumbledore and I were taking tea in the castle solarium, one of the few castle rooms only open to faculty and staff. It was a month into the broom-sorting project. Summer was at its height, and I still had yet to decide whether or not to return to the ministry full time.

I'd been contacted by the Department of Mysteries for an unspeakable position that seems to be part investigative, and part observer. The department of Magical Law Enforcement had offered me a generous severance package, as well as continued part-time employment. But both departments wanted me to look into the rumor that Dumbledore had, again- to them, done the unfathomable and hired a known "supposedly" former death-eater.

"Yes, I believe he will make an excellent potions master, and possibly a good head of Slytherin house, when Professor Haping retires."

"Potions. Huh. Good choice." I had expected him for the defense against the dark arts position, but I suppose Dumbledore has his reasons.

"You approve, then?" He sounded pleased.

"Severus Snape worked to bring about Voldemort's downfall, and his information was invaluable. I know few enough realize it, but those few weren't working my end of the caseload. Fr- My team leader often called him in as an 'expert' to verify this or that." I avoided saying Franks name. Even after 4 months, it was still painful. Dumbledore didn't miss the switch.

"How is Neville doing these days?"

"His Grandmother had to cast a rather strong memory charm on him. Now, he's blocked himself but good. With children that young, it can happen. And what happened, what he must have witnessed, that night had to have scared him something awful to remain that silent. Time may tell, but it could be that by the time he gets here rather then being at the top of his classes as his potential once showed, he may end up being unable to complete his education without a lot of encouragement and tutoring. You know, in a small way, as his Godmother, I'm relieved. People won't be looking to him to fill that dammed prophecy when it eventually gets out."

Dumbledore shook his head sadly.

"Well, we'll all see in about eight years, won't we?"

I could only respond with silence. 

Late summer 1984 

"Professor?" I found him in the sun-filled castle solarium. A room that seemed much larger on the inside then possible. Several of the windows were of colored leaded glass, causing color to play across the room depending on the day. Part conservatory, it was filled with hanging plants, small waterfalls, and birds that helped keep the insects down. Oddly enough, there were no paintings in this room probably due to the humidity. It was a room that all the professors took pride in maintaining the upkeep. It was a favorite place for many of them to spend a quiet afternoon reading, playing chess, talking quietly about articles in various magazines, or even working on various hobbies.

Dumbledore looked up from his reading. "May I help you?"

"Actually, this time, I may be able to help you." The professor and I have spent a lot of time talking together this summer, being alone on the grounds so much. We discovered we have a surprising amount in common. I paused before continuing. I had written to Moody before pursuing this, and found reassurance that he believed this was the best course of action as well as clearance to do so. Dumbledore looked intrigued at my choice of words.

"Go on." I took this as a good sign.

"I've been working with you a lot over these last few years, and I couldn't help noticing you've been reserved and withdrawn since everything with the Potters and Pettigrew." He looked over the rim of his glasses at me, his face unreadable. I continued my carefully prepared speech.

"I know that Petunia Evens-Dursley was his only remaining living blood relative, and the best way to protect him was to use the older magic. But I don't think that's what is bothering you." Dumbledore had looked away from me while I was speaking with a thought-filled expression.

Moody advised me to take the direct approach with this. That Dumbledore is more used to listening then talking when it comes to things that are personal. Moody indicated that I'd have to find the words that he had the courage not to speak, to help him share the emotions he rarely showed.

I understand it has to be this way. With so many people relying on him, any show of 'weakness' could cause chaos. But we also couldn't afford to lose him to melancholia. It could panic the magical population, and even more then that- he was our friend. After the way he's helped me, I wanted to make the attempt to reach out to him in the only way I knew how, despite the difference in our ages. I hand Dumbledore a three-ring notebook and accordion file that I was carrying.

"These are exact duplicates of originals that don't even technically exist." I sit down across from him. Opening Sirius' file so he could see the contents.

"Professor, _Albus_," He looked back at me, startled at the use of his proper name. "There was nothing you could have done to change the Potters minds about their secret-keeper. And they didn't choose wrongly. Sirius never betrayed them, or you. There are others that are in Azkaban right now that fit that description, but this betrayal is the one I think is weighing on you heavily even now." He nodded mutely, eyes cloudy, as I continued.

"How could he do it? How could he not have done it? These questions have been on many minds a lot these past three years. But regardless of the obvious answer, and that it flies in the face of all reason, Sirius is innocent of the crime he's accused of." His face registered surprise, than closed into an expression of disbelief. But his eyes held the hope that he so much wanted to believe what I had just said. His posture indicated that he was still listening to me.

"Didn't one of your favorite muggle authors once write something along the lines of, 'when you chip away all the facts and deceptions, what remains- however illogical, is the truth'? What you have in front of you is the truth as told by Sirius, Lupin, and several others. But the only real non-subjective truth in his case, are the hard facts and evidence from the scene of the crime."

"I was there that day, as part of Fudge's team. Those are my notes, my photographs, my sketches, and my still too many unanswered questions. But the only conclusion I have ends two ways. Peter is the one who betrayed us all, and either committed suicide or went down the sewer after cutting off his own finger- possibly using a shrinking charm. It's in the copy of BOTH coroner reports, muggle and ministry. I quote, "The wound here was _self-inflicted_ with a sharp object, not blasted like the rest of various physical parts seen today." Unquote."

Now it was fully in his eyes, he did want to believe. That his trust in giving Sirius a second chance had not been misplaced; that he hadn't failed himself. There was a silence broken only by him turning to the pages of photographs to the finger and the clearly severed end. When he spoke, his voice was shaky. "Why wasn't any of this brought up before?"

"Professor, he case was one of the many that were never tried. It's a big reason why many in my team no longer wish to work for the department of magical law enforcement. They have become more interested in verdict then verifiable evidence and sentencing over justice. I've seen the trails go from places where the innocent were weeded out, to a place where the so-called guilty are put on like a puppet show." I felt my face harden into a glare.

"Then there was their treatment of Remus Lupin, the day after the calamity." I remind myself to take a deep breath and calm down before I accidentally started breaking things around the room.

I know Dumbledore went to nearly all of the trials over the years. It boggles my mind sometimes about how long he has been working at Hogwarts. Most of the death-eaters, including their leader, at one point were his students. And Moody wonders why this keeps him awake at night.

After he defeated Grindeweld, there was real hope that the magical world wouldn't produce another major dark-threat this century. Yet, only 20 years later Dumbledore was again called to lead the community through the wars with Lord Voldemort and his followers. This time he fought against his students; many of whom he thought of as his own children while they are within these walls.

It's no wonder he looks perpetually tired.

"What happened to Remus?" His voice sounded strained. I was surprised he didn't already know.

"The ministry hit-men picked him up, handcuffed him to a chair, and he was interrogated for over twelve hours under the influence of a triple dose of undiluted veritaserum, only 3 days after a full moon. He nearly died 48-hours later form the overdose- and would have if Hagrid and Poppy hadn't taken him in. And with that much publicity, he's been unable to find work because of what he is, and he's been drinking himself into a stupor more often then not." A look of absolute horror crossed Dumbledore's features.

Moody was right. Dumbledore has been badly withdrawn if he is this unaware that one of his once top-operatives is in such a state. But he was also correct that Dumbledore would listen to this news coming from me. He listens, thinks, and acts with his information. But he also broods more then he lets most people know.

"Is there anything else?"

"Yes, actually." To his surprise, I pull my wand out.

"_Apparaccio duplicate file cabinette._" A three-drawer file cabinet and a large binder appeared in front of us.

"Here are the rest of the files I want you to have. The notebook holds the file encryption key, and there is a spell on them to update if any of their originals are updated. But these won't be destroyed if the originals are burned as some have been already." I pause. I can see he's looking a bit non-pulsed about this.

"These files do not even unofficially exist, so no one can tell me what to do or not to do with it. I trust in your ability to keep quiet about having this since they hold the evidence of the people who were sent to Azkaban without trial, and those who were let go without trial, as well as the final documents of the confirmed death-eaters who went singing the praises of Voldemort. It was created and updated by our team under Moody's direction. We all want you to have this, both for the information it holds, as well as for your peace of mind."

I saw a single tear slide down his face under his glasses. My heart went out to him.

"How did you know? How did you figure out..." He didn't seem to be able to finish the question he was trying to ask, but I know him well enough that he was asking for the full answer.

"Professor, you withdrew from everything, including the Order of the Phoenix. You even stopped looking for new members. You made a passing comment to Moody once about not sure whom to trust anymore, and that was very unlike you. But to me, the most telling was the haunted look in your eyes these past months as you walked across the grounds, and watch the students at meals you weren't eating, as if you were trying not to look at the empty chairs.

"Hagrid and I have been following Lupin as much as we both are able, and he expressed concern for you one night. I was chosen for Moody's team because of my ability to put facts together into a complete picture, and these signs all added up that something was bothering you very deeply, and had been since that November. Deduction said it was Sirius Black, and the others that ended up in Azkaban."

Dumbledore nodded slightly.

"You've given me a lot to think about. But I want to thank you for standing up and having your say with me. Not too many people do that anymore." He looked pensive, but his eyes did look less haunted. "Now I have to find somewhere in my inner office to put this wealth of information. Yes, you can trust my secrecy on this subject."

"I'd better get back outside to the pitch." I stood up, and got ready to leave him with his thoughts and notes.

It was fall the trees were just starting to change heralding the imminent return of the students. I was taking tea and chatting in the Castle Solarium with Professor McGonnagal when our new Professor Severus Snape walked in.

"Are the laboratories to your liking?" She asked him conversationally.

"Adequate, but I'd like to request some improvements and order some new equipment. Professor Sprout said you'd be the one to talk to." She nodded. The new professor had a quietly intense voice, black hair, and the pale skin that I've come to associate with many apothecaries and potion experts.

"Professor this is Lori Finnigan, she's joining the staff this year as an adjunct flying instructor and broom technician. She's been helping to upgrade the broom barn. Seems like this is the year for improvements around the castle. Tea?" Snape nodded. I poured, and passed the cream and sugar.

"Indeed. Forgive me instructor, but you look rather familiar to me and I can't place from where. Have we met before?"

"We crossed paths as students, Ravenclaw class '76, and you may have seen me with Frank Longbottom these past few years?" I take a drink of tea to swallow the lump in my throat.

"Ah. Yes, dueling club. I recall now." I smile and nod, grateful he didn't press the issue. "Do you still duel?" He asked me. Minerva McGonnigal choose this moment to clean her glasses and smile somewhat sardonically at both of us.

"Be careful, Severus. She's been asking everyone in the castle to spar with her."

"I'm looking to try for my next rank in Crosswinds Dueling Academy later this season, but I'm still having some difficulty with fast-casting and need practice." I offer in way of explanation. "I've seen your tournament record before you quit the circuit. It would be an honor." A surprised look crossed his face.

"See. Not everyone opposed your appointment here as potions master."

"I was beginning to understand that when Professor Sprout showed me the gardens she keeps up for rare potion ingredients, as well as introducing me to the Hogwarts suppliers over in Hogsmeade." He looked bemused. It also occurred to me that we were the youngest members of the staff. Another side effect of the nearly 12 year war with Voldemort. An entire generation lost. This is going to effect enrollment for awhile.

I listen to the conversation Snape and McGonnagal are having without really hearing it. I stare at the sun through the window, reflecting off the water and allow my mind to wander. I find myself thinking about an encounter with the potion suppliers of Hogsmeade:

"Please describe again what happened that evening?"

I listened intently to the question the wizard from magical law enforcement was asking the shop owner. I was going over the place for any sign of what the death-eaters may be up to next. I would need a list of the ingredients and herbs stolen. I was called out to Hogsmeade to help investigate a disturbance.

The lady, a former Hogwarts potions professor, spoke sounding agitated.

"I was minding the shop while my husband went to ship out an order from the owl-post. A group of 'em walked in here slapped a list down and demanded potion ingredients. While some of what they wanted was rare, none of it was illegal so I gave it to 'im. Didna' pay us a wee penny, so I gave him the cheep sides that night."

"Cheep sides?" The inquisitor asked.

Her husband, the other apothecary spoke up. "We keep three qualities of ingredients. The herbs must meet our exacting standards to be sold. So they are divided, sometimes things go wrong with the process from gathering, or drying, or in storage. These are sold at a much-reduced rate then the herbs that are prepared to perfection. We pride ourselves and our trainees and apprentices in gathering the herbs in the correct method for the herb, at the correct time of the month and star calendar for maximum potency. The cheep sides are herbs that failed the process; gathered at the wrong time, stored incorrectly, wrong cut, cut with the wrong blade. Generally they gets used for cooking and teas."

The look on his face dared the inquisitor to challenge him. This shop is a primary supplier for at least three other apothecaries that I have researched so far. It's no wonder that the death-eaters would choose here for their potions needs. They are also suppliers of the herbs used at Hogwarts and have never stinted on quality in over 30 years. It's also clear to me that these are business people, and while I may wish otherwise, I can't fault them for choosing to live then refuse service.

"Now your neighbors indicate that there have been other... visits?"

"Yes, that's correct inspector."

"And you continue to give them supplies?"

"As long as they pay for them, yes. It's the same deal we have with Dumbledore's crew. But we supply to all schools at wholesale."

"That settles it then, you're under arrest for aiding and abetting the enemies of the ministry."

"On what grounds?" I spoke up harshly. "These people are running a business. It is not the Ministries to say who they can, or cannot serve." There were laws on the table to start allowing just that, but they haven't gone through. There are freedoms the wizarding community is still not willing to give up.

There are times, I really hope that Crouch doesn't become our next minister.

Week before School Starts, 1984 

"Lory?"

"Yes, professor?"

"Usually there is more ceremony, but I hope you will accept this." Hanging from his hands was a Silver Phoenix pendent.

He wanted to make me a Phoenix _squire_? _He _wanted to make _me_ a squire in his league of defenders? I was utterly stunned and totally without words.

"Me? You want me in the order? Sir, I really can't accept this, not now... not after..." I think back on why I'm here sorting brooms, and the flash of an unforgivable green spell that took a child's future and man's life, an act of improper justice.

"Professor, I really don't deserve this."

A look of haunted understanding crosses his face.

"Then keep it with you, and wear it hidden, until you believe that you do. And then we'll hold the formal ceremony."

Unable to make any other response, I saluted him with my wand and bowed respectfully. Taking his nod as a dismissal, I returned to the Quidditch field.

I climbed into the stands where I had my notes and broom waiting for the next phase of sorting. I held the pendent in my hands, watching the sunlight play over its carved figure. It felt cool in my hands. I heard Hagrid approaching on the bleachers. He saw the pendent, and asked if he could see it closer.

"He squired you. 'Bout time." I was taken aback by his words.

"Your fair, objective, and have been following our Knight's code without even knowing what it is. I know why you're here, and why you're not ready to go back out there just yet. I can guess that you think you don't deserve this. Coddswollop. If you can't accept it on that merit, then try this; accept it on your ability to do more in the future." Without waiting for any sign from me, he placed the pendent over my head. And nodded his satisfaction. "Now, we need you down in the barn to go over those display cases you and Madame Hooch wanted. Come on."

He was smiling broadly at me.

Tucking the pendent under my robes, I followed him back to the barn.

He was correct.

I knew I would be doing more work in the future, for Dumbledore- and porbably for the ministry as well.


	11. Chapter 7, Interlude 1984 Summer 1991

Interim 1984 - 1991 

My work continued to keep me very busy in the years after Voldemort's defeat. On the advice of my remaining team members, I decided to return to the ministry and continue my work for the Department of Mysteries undercover in the Quidditch League and Duelist arenas. My flying lessons at Hogwarts were a success.

When the managers of the Ireland and Scotland teams learned I was working at Hogwarts, they offered me extra compensation as a recruiting scout if I was able to recommend any Hogwarts Quidditch players for their teams.

After the way Crouch treated his son, and the accusation of a popular sports hero, he fell out of popularity within the ministry. Cornelius Fudge moved into the favored position for next Minister of Magic.

I purchased the wizarding wand and broom tree farm, and began my racing broom restoration business on the side, eventually selling some of the brooms through Quality Quidditch Supplies. This earned me another circuit to watch while I went to various broom shows as a seller. And so things stood, until Harry Potter came to Hogwarts.

=================================== 

There is a Philosophers stone. Here. At Hogwarts.

Because Dumbledore had a feeling it wasn't safe at Gringotts.

This news is almost as remarkable that Harry Potter will finally be joining the wizarding world. Has it truly been 10 years since Lord Voldemorts downfall? I think best when my hands are full so I head out to the workshop to overhaul a few more brooms for the new term. I spelled the skylight windows to open and went to work polishing and trimming. A few hours must have passed when Professor Flitwick came in and cleared his throat to get my attention, startling me.

"What can I do for you, Professor?" He was looking around the workshop with interest.

"I see why you disappear out here so often." He said approvingly. He picked up one of the brooms I was restoring from the workbench.

"May I?" I gestured for him to go ahead, with a wave of my hand and a smile. He took out his wand and tapped the broom. It flew to a sharp hover. As he did a careful examination of my work, I stored the tools and cleared the workbench. When I was done, he set the broom down.

"You always were good at charms work. Interesting way to combine that with your enjoyment of old brooms. Well, to business." I led the way back to my office through the cases of antique brooms.

"Albus placed me in charge of one of the rooms guarding the... well the item. The idea I have is to combine all the skills needed to be a top-notch quidditch player with a catch." He went on to describe a room filled with flying keys, and the person crossing the room would have to pick the correct key out of several dozen. All while flying on a broom and being pelted by the various keys.

The heads of the houses were each given the assignment to focus on the skills and of the houses. Slytheryn, logic and cunning; Gryffendor, courage and fortitude; Hufflepuff, hard work and dicipline; Ravenclaw, learning and cleverness. How each teacher chose to interpret that was up to the individual's talents and interests. He also asked Professor Quirrill to contribute something from the dark arts, and Hagrid to donate a suitable doorkeeper.

"I need your help with this- first to spell and automate several dozen flying keys, as well as the indefinite loan a few brooms- which I'd like you to charm however you see fit. Think you can have them ready in 3 days?"

"Not a problem. I'll get started this afternoon. When would you like to meet to start spelling keys?"

"Come to the charms classroom this evening after dinner and we can get started. Thanks in advance for your help."

_(later that evening)_

"So we have 5 basic types of keys. Those that are flying around randomly with no purpose, those that fly away, those that attack who ever is on the broom, those that will just fly chaotically around whoever is on the broom, and finally those that are acting as protectors to the ones that fly away. Lets get to work."

It was cheery working with him, it was late into the night before we were even a third of the way through the charming and duplicating of the keys.

I'll be interested to learn what the other professors are working on someday.


	12. Chapter 8, 1992 Dueling Club & Lockhart

During First tri-mester – COS 

The door to the faculty room swung open and Professor Lockhart glided in attempting to make an entrance, we all ignored him. Undeterred, he cleared his throat loudly.

"I have an announcement to make."

Obviously.

As usual, the git wouldn't look me in the eyes. As Snape would say, never underestimate an opponent who won't meet your eyes. "I've spoken with Dumbledore and have been given permission to re-form the Hogwarts dueling club."

His announcement was met with stunned silence. Flitwich and I exchanged a look of disgust. But it was Snape who bore the brunt of his idiocy this time. "Professor Snape, I wonder if you would be so generous with your time to participate as my first assistant, you might be a bit rusty with your wand work but I'll go easy on you?"

I had to stifle laughter at this suggestion. Flitwich was less successful.

"Of course Gilderoy. I'd be honored to help you in this endeavor." Lockhart clicked his heals and glided out with a flurry and a swish of his cloak, totally missing the sarcasm and scorn dripping from Snape's every word and the mocking way he bowed Lockhart out the door.

"Severus, you're not planning on really hurting him, are you?" McGonnagal was the first to speak up, voicing nothing but concern. "I wonder why he asked you and not one the rest of us."

"Probably thinks as a potions expert I'd be the easiest opponent." But the smile on his face said it all; yes, he did want to hurt the little peacock. Lockhart vs. Former Death Eater?

I'd have to figure out a way to see this.

"I'm putting 2 gallians on Snape landing peacock on the floor with one spell. Any takers?" We looked at Professor Vector who had spoken, and at McGonnagal, handing over a couple of gallians- and was grinning like a cat with her paws in the cream.

Snape and I spent considerable time as dueling opponents out in the broom shed. Most of the faculty who were in the Order did; including Dumbledore and McGonnagal. Snape originally approached me to oppose him to help keep his Occlemancy under control, and to reprogram the Death Eater reflex to kill or crucio an opponent who was winning.

The first year of these matches were done in tandem with Professor Dumbeldore who would cast legemancy spells at random intervals just to throw him off. There were a few close calls in the beginning, but these days it was a challenge to keep each other on our toes even without the Unforgivable curses.

July 1993, right before Harry Arrives in Diagon Alley, in POA 

"Any new books for me?"

I'm enjoying a rare lazy 3-day weekend, and after cleaning and catching up on the bills, paperwork, and laundry and assorted housework I decided to visit Diagon Alley for a day out. After randomly browsing the shelves of Flourish & Blotts, I stepped up to the counter to ask if any were books on my 'Eagle-Eye-Watch.' (Eagle-Eye-Watch, regular customers can pay 7-sickles for the bookstore to hold one copy of any books by a specific author or on a specific topic.)

"Two, actually." Said the clerk smiling, I recognized him, but couldn't place his name. "One of your listed authors put out another book on vintage broomsticks, and Lockhart has re-released his book on Dueling." I groaned quietly, rolling my eyes at the mention of _THAT _name.

"Not a Lockhart fan?" The clerk asked curiously.

"No, I am not. Can you write on my account to not hold any Lockhart books? I know they're popular with your other customers, and I'll never buy any." I couldn't help adding quietly, "They're hopelessly self-grandiose and contain no real information."

The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow at me, and returned the book to the best-sellers shelf. Sometimes I marvel how enamored the general populace still is with the git, even with amnesia.

I pay for the book on broomsticks, and spontaneously decide to stop at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor for a gelato. It's a beautiful early summer day, so I sit outside at one of umbrella tables. As I watch the other passer-by on the streets, my mind wanders back to my first ever encounter with M'seur Gilderoy Lockhart.

_(1988) _

It was about six years ago, at a dueling conference in Dublin. I was speaking to an old mentor and trainer from my dueling club about some of the advanced duelists I'd been training with, when Lockhart interrupted us. I recognized him immediately from various magazine covers. I suppose I should have been flattered that he stopped at our table but I was too annoyed for the interruption and that he would not stop talking.

After five minutes of incessant babbling, he finally got to the point. He made a VERY condescending offer to help "improve" my dueling skills, in a private session with "his truly." I gave him a look that said, 'just try it.'

My teacher was trying hard to keep a straight face.

I graciously, but with much sarcasm accepted his offer. And before he could take another breath, I picked up my dueling jacket, and pulled him along to the first open dueling platform I could spot. I flashed my Club ID at the announcer-attendee, claimed the next open-dueling round, gave our names to the announcer, and walked to my place on the stage. Lockhart, stunned at this turn of events, walked to his place as the duel was announced and a crowd gathered.

"3 rounds- Advanced, to disarm or disable opponent." He looked horrified.

As I was the challenger, first cast went to him. We faced off, saluted, turned and paced the required 5 steps, and took our stances. After a few flourishes he finally cast. I still have no idea what he cast, but it was easily grounded, I shot back a stumbling spell, which connected soundly. He fell backwards, dropping his wand.

"Round 1, winner- Lory Finnigan, Instructor, Crosswinds Dueling Club." I could hear the applause, but I was focused on the next round. Honorably, I waited for him to regain his feet and return to stance.

My spell was cast first. I threw a partial-body bind against him, which to both our surprise he successfully blocked. He cast a disarming spell at me. I deflected, and countered with the tickling spell. He deflected it, into the audience hitting a spectator. This was getting amusing. He cast jelly-legs at me, easily reflected back at him, and he again lost his balance but managed not to lose his wand. I could see he was getting angry. He cast a second spell out of turn, and threw a transfiguration spell at me. I cast finite incantatum, and threw a blast of energy at him with a "get out of my way" spell. He fell over, stunned and unable to continue the duel.

I heard the audience cheering for the victory.

Taking a bow, I re-sheathed my wand, and went to shake hands with Lockhart according to form. He was already in the midst of a circle of sympathizers who were all throwing me dark-glances.

"Excellent work, Lory!" My old-teacher approached. "That extra work you've been spending on fast-casting has really paid off! Let's go join Lacy and Ferdinand for a butterbeer, my treat!" As he leads the way to the food sellers, he leans over to me and said quietly, "Watch your back, I think he may try something."

He wasn't wrong.

As I was leaving the convention two days later, after leaving my report with security, Lockhart (amazingly alone for once) confronted me in an empty hallway.

"You're quite a duelist, I've been watching you in the tournament."

"So they say." I reply non-committal. I didn't win, but I did receive special recognition for form and honorable dueling. It had been a good event.

"Where did you learn?" He asked, looking interested.

"School dueling clubs, work, and I've been a member of the Crosswinds Dueling Club for a good few years now." I wondered where this conversation was going.

"So you're _very _well learned then. My apologies for my earlier comments. It seems rather, that you could teach me a thing or two." He bowed, and walked on down the hallway. I finish locking my room, turning away from him. I heard his footsteps stop, and before I could look up, I heard him yell, "OBLIVIATE!"

Only years of training at work allowed me to dodge that spell by rolling out of the way, and casting _reducto _at the same time wand-less. It was still a close call. Lockhart had cast it with no warning, at full strength, at relatively close range. I pulled my wand while still in the tumble roll and came up quick-casting.

"ACCIO Wand!"

"OB-"his wand was out of his hand before he could finish the word. I catch his wand in my free hand and cast the leg-locker curse on him before he could turn to run.

"Nice, very honorable." I was dripping sarcasm. "I should snap your wand right here you crazy git." He flinched and started babbling excuses. I snapped at him telling him to shut up.

"I have no witnesses or proof that you tried to mind-wipe me, which I'm sure you planned. But you EVER try that again on anyone, and I catch you at it, I will challenge you before I drag you to the aurors and this time I will NOT use the stupid baby-spells I cast today. Do I make myself clear?" He nodded mutely.

I released him and returned his wand. Without a word, and with a swish of cape, he glided away.

I sigh and finish the last of my ice cream. Well, he finally got his. Apparently while trying to curse Harry Potter and his friend Ron last year. I still have to smile at that. I remember on his case file that the auror who investigated him decided that justice had been served. As Lockhart is still in Mungo's, I couldn't agree more. I leave the parlor and head over to Quality Quidditch Supplies. There's a new broomstick display going up, curious I look closer.

"Thinking about actually purchasing a _new_ broom?" It's an old joke between the shopkeeper and I.

"Now, Harold, you know I won't sit on a broom younger then 30 years!" I say laughing.

"Well, lets see what you think of this years newest racing model, just in this week. Finally replacing out those Nimbus brooms you despised so much." He quirked a smile at me. Debating the various qualities of racing brooms (or lack there-of) over mulled-mead and tea has filled many an afternoon for both of us. He knows my hobby is to find the oldest broken down racing brooms I can find and restore them to working order. He actually sells my brooms on consignment in his shop.

"I just think that the odd-numbered Nimbus' are best left as trees, that's all. I never said I despised them." In my line of work, it's good to have hobbies. Some day when I'm ready to settle down, I hope to retire to my teaching and coaching, and add a full adjunct used broom store and workshop to the back of Quality Quidditch here in Diagon Alley, or maybe Hogsmeade. But that's a long way off. I suddenly realize the new school term at Hogwarts will be starting in a month; I make a mental note to contact Madam Hooch before the new term to go through the past years broom donations.

I look closer at the broom he's handed to me. Along the side its name proclaimed, _Firebolt. _Even without reading the card, I can tell that this broom is one that will stand the test of time provided it crashes well, which most racing brooms don't. It practically hummed with all the spells and charms imbued in it. But the lines were clean, the grip was solid, and the balance seemed sounder then I've seen in ages.

"Who's the manufacturer?"

"Actually, it's a subsidiary of the makers of those Silver Arrows and Shooting Comets you tend to prefer."

"Figures," I say with surprised approval, "those people at least know how to make a solid broom. I may have to suggest these to be tested for the Irish National team."

"Wow, that's high praise coming from you." He's mocking me. I can tell.

"Not at all, they have every trainer, coach, team member, and scout out looking at new brooms for the upcoming season. They're looking to go all the way to the world cup, and with the strong team they have right now, they want them on the very best."

"Well, you're the one to know that. How long have you been working with that team?"

"About 15 years _(since 1976)_, off and on. I'm more of a consultant for them these days; provide the odd outside opinion to keep their perspective fresh. Make suggestions for improving training techniques, recommend new recruits, spot defensive weaknesses- that sort of thing. Really, I just keep an eye on things on circuit, and see if anything can be done better."

"Let me guess, you were the one who _suggested_ they get better brooms."

I laughed and shook my head no. "They were due for an upgrade any year now. The head captain came up with that without too much prodding from me- just the careful application of a thick board to the back of his head these past 2 years. Okay, I'm a fish, I'll take the bate. How much will this set me back? Do I have any credit right now?" It had been a while since I checked on the brooms I put up for sale before the holidays.

He chuckled. "I was wondering when you'd get to that. Actually, congratulations are in order- all but two of the last dozen sold. No one will believe that a refurbished Cleansweep6, even at the low price you're offering, can fly as well as a Nimbus 1990. Eh, none of your lectures now! I've seen what you can do with them, but without a real demonstration like the one you gave me, who's going to believe it?" He grinned mischievously at me.

"You've been leaving store credit aside for years now in case a new broom ever showed up to rival your Silver Arrow I. And here it is, I've seen this one demonstrated and yes, you're still ahead credit wise." I shook my head in disbelief, trying to do calculations in my head- and... he's correct. I hadn't cleared my store account for five years. Even with this large of a purchase I am still ahead.

"Could you have that delivered to my place? And since it seems your supply is low, I have more refurbs for your stock. Go ahead and knock 5 gallons off those Cleansweeps. With the school year starting soon, they should move at that price. If they haven't, I'll take them to with me to clearance at the Scottish broom show in October."

"Sounds good. Sides, you got a steal. If Ireland does purchase these sweeties, the asking price is going to go through the roof. So how _are_ things at work?" A causal question for anyone else, but the store is empty and he's a colleague from my old team and one of the last that knows how deep I'm 'keeping my hand in.'

"Still has me moving all over Britannia at random intervals keeping my eyes open, cleaning up messes and trying to figure out what caused them, and still observing specific backs, and partly guarding others. You know I like the travel- and hey, it pays for all the conferences I'd want to go to anyways. They all still like having someone who actually belongs on the scene- and keep me well compensated. Was even able to visit my family a few months back after cleaning up that big mess over in Galway."

"Oh, and this is new as of last week, hasn't even made the papers yet, but thought you'd should know Sirius Black somehow got out of Azkaban." I say very quietly. "Head Minister seems to think he's going after Harry. With his file, I say rubbish."

"So you DO still have that file collection and lists our team put together? I wondered if you did."

"Yeah, I moved it when they moved my office. It still doesn't even unofficially exist. Fudge hasn't any more interest in looking into the untried cases then Crouch did. I know that's a big reason why you left the ministry. And there are days I wish I had. But I have to listen to Carly, you know how she is with these feelings of hers." He nodded.

"She told me it was important to take the position I was offered. Even she's not sure why, but here I am- officially retired, and yet mysteriously still on the Ministry payroll. At least I'm a senior minister now and where I can do some effective good." We both had to smile at the pun.

"Remember that essay for history we had to do all those years ago? The one about why witch hunts were a waste of time? I keep a copy of that on my desk at all times. To remind me."

"So you still think Black's innocent?" He looked at me curious.

"Yes, Harold, I do. Him, and several others actually. I stand by what I said 12 years ago to Moody. All the evidence we gathered at the scene points that he was potentially guilty of nothing worse then casting spells in front of muggles. And without knowing his side of the story, we can't properly charge him as to severity in case it was in self-defense. But I was a new junior auror at the time, and Frank... was senior on that case." I still get choked up with anger when I think about what happened to Frank Longbottom. He was an excellent auror and a good friend. I have to take a deep breath before continuing.

"Without his verbal testimony of what he saw that day, there can never be a retrial under this administration. Everything else we found was covered up, or conveniently destroyed except for the copies of everything Moody made us keep for our own records."

"There's really no other news. Keep your ears open for any gossip in this quarter, for me?"

"No prob. So what kind of brooms you sending to me this season?"

Two customers had come into the shop ending the conversation.


	13. Chapter 9, Firebolt issues

"Madame Finnagan" Professor McGonnagal walked into my office followed by Professor Flitwick and Madame Hooch. It took a moment to register that she was carrying a Firebolt nearly identical to the one in the rack by my door. I'd been expecting this since Harold's Owl a few hours ago.

"We need your expertise. This broom has been partially stripped and searched for hexes and curses. We've checked for everything we can think of, but I'm still not convinced it's safe." McGonnagal said crisply. I motioned for the teachers to take the various seats around my office and explain further.

"Harry Potter received this remarkable broom from someone unknown, we suspect Black is behind it, we're concerned about Harry's safety if he ever rides this broom." I think for a moment, looking at my filing drawers. As Harold said, 12 years in Azkaban might have been enough to unhinge Black. I pass the scroll on my desk to Minerva.

"This is a letter from my contact in quality Quidditch I was just about to bring to you Madame Hooch. He wanted to confirm that Harry Potter actually purchased this broom- however as you can see from the credit check at Gringotts, the funds were pulled from an account being held in trust for Sirius Black in vault 711 and the handwriting is not Mr. Potter's. I'm afraid I can confirm the broom came from him. However, as an international-standard Quidditch broom the Firebolt is supposed to be nearly unhexable to prevent cheating or tampering. Which would also make it challenging to cast the charms on it to check if there are charms on it." From the looks on their faces, I was correct.

"The captain of Harry's team and his friends are really getting irratating, asking constantly when he will get the broom back." The look Minerva gave over her glasses said even more then tone of her words.

"You know my feelings on this subject, professors- I don't believe that any student should be able to supply their own racing brooms for Quidditch to prevent such an unfair advantage." Flitwich interrupted me before I could get started or warmed up to the subject.

"But having stated that, we are still left with two options: send this broom back to the manufactures for a complete respelling, which I recommend. Or continue stripping the spells that are on it until we either find something or not then attempt to respell it. Which I don't recommend, either of which could take months and none of us here are trained or qualified to respell brooms of this caliber." I was trained and certified, but chose not to argue the point at the moment.

"There is a third option and compromise that I can offer- Professors, if you don't think Harry Potter is overly observant. Harold McGrathe of Quality Quidditch Supplies is willing to trade the broom out for one of the exact make and model and send the one Black purchased to the manufacture and Ministry to strip, search for evidence, and respell since Harry has been cleared of any chance of fraud."

"That sounds like the best plan. How long until the new broom replacement arrives."

I toss a handful of floo powder into my fireplace and called Harold. After a brief exchange, we confirm the plan and he passed the new broom to us and we passed the potentially cursed broom back to him. The brooms were nearly identical. As long as Harry doesn't notice the change of serial numbers, there was nothing further to worry about.

I'm trying not to listen to the ongoing commentary disguised as an advertisement for Firebolts. I have to admit it Harry Potter is a good flyer and seeker. However, on that broomstick sloppiness I noted when he was on the Nimbus seemed exacerbated. Turns were wide, and he seemed to be relying on the broom to do the flying for him but his tactics were good. Lots of potential there. Oliver Wood as keeper and Captain was impressive and he did an excellent job keeping his team working together.

I continued to take notes on the various players in the match. Gryffendor won despite Slytheryn's attempts to distract Harry. I can't help but wonder who he learned to cast a Patronis.

I stayed in my seat by a pure force of will. I've never seen such low-handed tactics as the Slytheryn house was using today. If I were the referee on the field, I'd have the lot of them off their brooms and in detention.

There is a Philosophers stone. Here. At Hogwarts. Because it wasn't safe at Gringotts. This news is almost as remarkable that Harry Potter will finally be joining us here. Has it truly been 10 years since Lord Voldemorts downfall? I think best when my hands are full so I head out to the workshop to overhaul a few more brooms for the new term. I spelled the skylight windows to open and went to work polishing and trimming. A few hours must have passed when Professor Flitwick came in and cleared his throat to get my attention, startling me.

"What can I do for you, Professor?" He was looking around the workshop with interest.

"I see why you disappear out here so often." He said approvingly. He picked up one of the brooms I was restoring from the workbench. "May I?" I gestured for him to go ahead, with a wave of my hand and a smile. He took out his wand and tapped the broom. It flew to a sharp hover. As he did a careful examination of my work, I stored the tools and cleared the workbench. When I was done, he set the broom down.

"You always were good at charms work. Interesting way to combine that with your enjoyment of old brooms. Well, to business." I led the way back to my office through the cases of antique brooms.

"Albus placed me in charge of one of the rooms guarding the... well the item. The idea I have is to combine all the skills needed to be a top-notch quidditch player with a catch." He went on to describe a room filled with flying keys, and the person crossing the room would have to pick the correct key out of several dozen. All while flying on a broom and being pelted by the various keys.

The heads of the houses were each given the assignment to focus on the skills and of the houses. Slytheryn, logic and cunning; Gryffendor, courage and fortitude; Hufflepuff, hard work and dicipline; Ravenclaw, learning and cleverness. How each teacher chose to interpret that was up to the individual's talents and interests. He also asked Professor Quirrill to contribute something from the dark arts, and Hagrid to donate a suitable doorkeeper.

"I need your help with this- first to spell and automate several dozen flying keys, as well as the indefinite loan a few brooms- which I'd like you to charm however you see fit. Think you can have them ready in 3 days?"

"Not a problem. I'll get started this afternoon. When would you like to meet to start spelling keys?"

"Come to the charms classroom this evening after dinner and we can get started. Thanks in advance for your help."

"So we have 5 basic types of keys. Those that are flying around randomly with no purpose, those that fly away, those that attack who ever is on the broom, those that will just fly chaotically around whoever is on the broom, and finally those that are acting as protectors to the ones that fly away. Lets get to work."

It was cheery working with him, it was late into the night before we were even a third of the way through the charming and duplicating of the keys.

The door to the faculty room swung open and Professor Lockhart glided in attempting to make an entrance, we all ignored him. Undeterred, he cleared his throat loudly.

"I have an announcement to make." Obviously. As usual, the git wouldn't look me in the eyes. As Snape would say, never underestimate an opponent who won't meet your eyes. "I've spoken with Dumbledore and have been given permission to re-form the Hogwarts dueling club."

His announcement was met with stunned silence. Flitwich and I exchanged a look of disgust. But it was Snape who bore the brunt of his idiocy this time. "Professor Snape, I wonder if you would be so generous with your time to participate as my first assistant, you might be a bit rusty but I'll go easy on you?"

I had to stifle laughter at this suggestion. Flitwich was less successful.

"Of course Gilderoy. I'd be honored to help you in this endeavor." Lockhart clicked his heals and glided out with a flurry and a swish of his cloak, totally missing the sarcasm and scorn dripping from Snape's every word and the mocking way he bowed Lockhart out the door.

"Severus, you're not planning on really hurting him, are you?" McGonnagal was the first to speak up, voicing nothing but concern. "I wonder why he asked you and not one the rest of us."

"Probably thinks as a potions expert I'd be easiest opponent." But the smile on his face said it all; yes, he did want to hurt the little peacock. I'd have to figure out a way to see this.

"I'm putting 2 gallians on Snape landing peacock on the floor with one spell. Any takers?"

Snape and I spent considerable time as dueling opponents out in the broom shed. Most of the faculty who were in the Order did; including Dumbledore and McGonnagal. Snape originally approached me to oppose him to help keep his Occlemancy under control, and to reprogram the Death Eater reflex to kill or crucio an opponent who was winning. The first year of these matches were done in tandem with Professor Dumbeldore who would cast legemancy spells at random intervals just to throw him off. There were a few close calls in the beginning, but these days it was a challenge to keep each other on our toes.


	14. Chapter 10, Summer 1995, Interlede

_Here is where I begin to separate from Canon._

_The next scene takes place in the summer between the 4th & 5th book; the following scenes take place during and immediately after the 5th, leading the reader into a possible interp. of the 6th book and after. Reminder – this is a work in progress; I'm still "fleshing out" Lori's years as a teacher, the war with Voldemort, and how it all ends._

_On we go._

__

Summer 1995

His father all but dragged him into my office. His mother, a soured expression on her face was unreadable. "You. You're the ex-professional quidditch trainer? This is my son. He fancies himself a seeker and a fine quidditch player. I will no longer tolerate him disgracing the family with these notions. Teach him how to play properly, or break his broom." The last was said as he all but threw Draco into a chair next to my desk. "I can pay you, when can you start."

"Please have a seat Master Malfoy, Lady Narcissa. Should I summon tea?" Without waiting for a response, I conjured a full tea tray into my office. I was not expecting this interruption of my time this afternoon. But my instincts told me this interview could well be interesting. I serve tea to my unexpected guests.

"Draco, do you want Quidditch training from me?" I say directly to him. Asking him the questions I ask any of the students sitting in his position. "Are you prepared to treat this seriously? Do you have any goals to take to Quidditch professionally, or merely as a lifetime hobby-sport or is this for school recreation?"

Draco mumbled something sullenly, and looked out the window then at my personal broom rack and various award plaques.

"What was that, I didn't quite catch it."

"I want to catch the snitch, win the quidditch cup from Pott... the Gryffendors, and take back the house cup."

"Ah, recreation then. That's fine. Would you prefer to start while it's still summer, or wait for the term to start?"

"I never said I needed help to win against Potter."

I ignore his parents and looked at the indolent child sitting in front of me. I spoke to him as if they weren't even in the room.

"Draco, I've heard your whining, your complaining. 'His broom is newer,' 'He's Dumbledore's Pet'.'My arm is injured' Blah-Blah-Blah-Blah-Blah! Has it ever once, just once in the past 2 years of playing against him, that he just might be a better player then you? Have you taken that into consideration and actually practiced or focused more on your playing?"

"I fly perfectly well, and I've won plenty of matches for my team! And I repeat, I don't need any help from a Potty-fan. If you were such a great trainer, how come you're here now?" He made to leave, but his father pushed him back into his chair. He looked like he was about to go into a tirade, but I interrupt him.

"I've watched every quidditch game at this school since I came here. For all that he's still sloppy, Potter is the better quidditch player if only for his concentration on the game, rather then heckling opponents. In three years of playing Quidditch, Only once did he ever fail to catch a snitch, and that was because of the dementors." Draco snickered. I resist the urge to strangle the child.

"Potter may be the youngest, but Cedric Diggory was the best seeker this school has ever seen in my tenure, second was Charles Weasley. Oliver Wood was an outstanding keeper despite a tendency to get in the way of the bludgers. Can you name the last Slytherin player to ever be recruited for any National or International Quidditch league teams? I tell you Mr. Malfoy, it hasn't happened in over 15 years."

"How dare you say such things to my son?" His father looked outraged.

"You ask me to instruct him, and yet you think I will tolerate any sort of rudeness from him? If his entire purpose is to show that he knows my job better then I do, then my task is meaningless, and my time wasted. And I for one do not waste my time."

The trio looked at me, astounded.

"How dare a half-blood witch show such insolence to me!"

I cut him off mid-sentence wondering what Grams would say about that.

"Half-blood? I see. Good day, Master Malfoy." With a wandless gesture, the door to my office nearly flew off its hinges opening.

I open a drawer and take out some papers, a quill, and start writing. Beginning a file on Draco and taking some notes of this conversation. The trio still sat there, Draco- looking like he was torn between respect for me and defiance. I look up, with as cold of an expression and inflection as I can place in my voice. "Good. Day. Master. Malfoy."

Draco broke the silence with a much-humbled tone of voice. "Please, Madame Finnigan, would you coach me to be a better seeker."

"No." I say looking directly into his eyes. "You've convinced me that you can do it on your own." They continue to sit, staring at me. I go back to writing.

"You know he can't." Narcissa almost sounded pleading.

"I know that, Lady Narcissa. But the two of us seem to be the only one in this room who understands it." I say without looking up.

She takes a side look at her husband. "Not that it matters, but wasn't your mother born of muggles?"

"And my father, heir and first-born son, from one of the longest pure-blood lines in Scotland and Ireland. Who on the _insistence _of the family matriarch, married outside the pure-blood lines. And why would that be? She felt that a fresh perspective in the family was necessary. Then my father met the unexpected. One of the _blessed of Erie_." I didn't think it was possible, but Lucius actually got paler. Draco looked confused.

"There are five muggle family lines who are fully and completely aware of the existence of our world. Who to every seventh generation, for reasons that vary according to family legends, are born powerful witches or wizards whose gifts nearly always breed true and strongly into their children. My mother was one of those, brought to Ireland by her American family that was stationed near Bahn in the air force. She received two owls one for the Salem Institute, one for Hogwarts. To stay closer to her parents, she went to Hogwarts."

"In my tenure here, I've watched the amount of pure blood witches and wizards dwindle to nearly none. The Dark Lord has so far failed in his mission. He hasn't ridded the world of the muggle-borns, and half-bloods. He's created a world where they will soon have the majority."

"I wish you luck and success finding a proper match for young Draco here. If you're looking for a pure blood witch of proper age, there are 2 in Hufflepuff, 3 in Ravenclaw, and one in Gryffendor, and none in Slytheryn that are not previously engaged in arranged marriages. I believe he's made himself unpopular enough in all those houses, that none would consent to the marriage. But you didn't come here to discuss family genealogy and wizard husbandry. You came to me for Quidditch and you seem to feel that my ancestry isn't good enough for instructing your son. I wish you success finding any professional trainers who would consider working with a purely recreational player for any fee. Good day, Master Malfoy, Lady Narcissa, and Mister Draco." They finally stand and make their way to the open door.

"Draco," He turns towards me. "If you change your mind, ask again at the beginning of the term." He made a slight bow in my direction, turned and left the office.

I shut the door gently with another wandless gesture.

And smiled.


	15. Chapter 10, pt 2, Memories Sept 1978

Sept. 1978 

Frank and I stepped onto the rotary. Slowly the wall started spinning, speeding up until it was a blue blur.

"Office suite 723." Frank spoke clearly, as though he were using flu powder. I remained silent and observant.

I'd been working for the Magical Law enforcement department for 6 months when we had a full-scale all points attack. As was becoming usual, I was gathering information from the aftermath of the scene to try to piece together what happened, and try to figure what will happen next. I ended up along side Auror Frank Longbottom. I tried not to feel intimidated, but this was a man who had escaped Lord V twice.

The wall stopped turning, Frank opened the door directly in front of us. The door was identical to all the other doors in the rotary. The door opened into a quaintly decorated hallway. It was wood paneled on the lower half, and had a Morris print wall paper that looked like it hadn't been updated since Victorian times. Magical lamps made to resemble gas-light were set at intervals along the wall between doors marked out in prime number sequences. Finally we came to a door labeled office suite 723. Frank opened the door and let me proceed him inside.

I blinked rapidly several times, my eyes momentarily dazzled by the light. After the gothic horror of the entranceway, the quiet Victorian of the main office hallway, I was unprepared for anything as over done art deco, industrial, and modern as this room is. Frank seemed amused by my reaction.

"Fortunately, as we get split up into teams and assigned to an office space, we're allowed to choose our own style of décor since we end up spending so much time here. Unfortunately, our last team leader had a fondness for muggle television adventure shows." He led me to the middle of the suite, where there was a glassed in conference room. He held the door open for me.

"In the last few months we've been assigned a new team leader, Alistar Moody. He's still taking suggestions on floor plans. But he fully intends to get rid of this human fish bowl. Here's the rest of the full team. Alistar Moody, you know. Here is Carlotta Brice- Team Healer, expert in Magical Maladies and injuries. This is Nancy Longbottom- Auror, Magical defense and strategy; Dorcus Meadows – Expert in Herbology; Harold McGinnis- expert in covert operations; Edgar Bones- transportation; Severus Snape- with covert operations as well as Potions expert, and I'm the communication liaison of the team. You've been transferred to us as a Crime Scene Investigator."

I tried not to look confused as Frank continued.

"As you can see, each member on the team has their expertise- and we make use of that. This will be one of the few times we're all in the same room. Outside this room, we'll tell you who it's safe to know, when and why. Our primary investigator is out of commission. We have too many cases open to wait and see if he'll be released from Mungo's. Your personality profile and work on the Quidditch leagues indicate you're a good team player, can handle high-pressure situations even in front of reporters, and are able to work without supervision. We need these traits along with your ability to look at the small details and see how they fit in the larger picture. Now, I read in your file that you are being fast-tracked through the Auror program?"

"Yes, sir." My test scores from Hogwarts O.W.L. & N.E.W.T classes were nearly always at the top of form. I think it disappointed a few of my professors that I went to work for the Quidditch league instead. Then the League was shut down due to the war with V. I was at the last game that was held- it was a blood bath.

I was questioned as a witness, thanked for my quick thinking to get the spectators, especially the children and underage students, in the sections nearest me down into the sealed locker rooms where myself and a few of the surviving members of both teams could defend them. I stunned two Death Eaters that found our out-of-the way entrance allowing some of the team members and parents to grab brooms and fly out to try to rescue children who made it to the broom fields without their families. We found their bodies later that evening under the green glow of the dark mark.

The Ministry recruited me that same week.

Frank approached me after a high-profile case we worked on together about doing cross work for the Department of Mysteries. The hours would be longer, but I felt it would be worth the time and effort. There were spies and traitors in the Ministry ranks. Many of my friends, colleges, and teammates, in the Quidditch league and even my brother-in-law were no longer with us because of information leaks. This is one way to begin to find them; by using watchers from within.

It makes since that the Department of Mysteries does this, they were set up to be a clearing house of information that comes through the Ministry, as well as explore and research the, as yet, unexplained. Information is gathered, then catalogued by those who have limited bias to the content.

The meeting progressed. I was able to learn about them, and they began to learn about me.

Moody, was shrewd and cynical as only a true pragmatist could be. Frank and Nancy Longbottom were highly skilled analyzers who complimented each other greatly the way they came at problems. Carlotta, who asked to be called Carly, was cautious but had a harshly callus side. I've noticed many healers developing that tone over the past two years. I think the toll of picking up the pieces of patients and their families must be a great one. Harold didn't say much that first meeting. What he did say was worth listening to, and showed he put a lot of thought into what he did say. Dorcus on the other hand was much more outspoken and idealistic. Severus was an enigma. I was never to acknowledge that I knew him, and he would never acknowledge that he knew me. But, despite being fresh out of Hogwarts- he was our greatest source of information on HIS army, as well as being our consultant in potions.

I am an observer. I watch body language, as well as the physical reactions there's little control over- eye movements and blinking, perspiration, arm position. More is communicated without saying a word then with written or spoken missives. When watching Quidditch players, the smallest muscle twitch could be the sign of a larger injury the player doesn't want to reveal. When watching suspects, it can mean a falsehood, or confession. The smallest grain of dust near a victim could reveal an illegal herb or poison, a hair- who administered the dose. The evidence speaks louder then rumor, or even facts.

I always chose to stand behind the evidence.

I looked at Moody over the cup of tea. He looked like hell.

He'd lost a leg, an eye, and possibly his sense of perspective in the line of duty.

He drank from a hip flask now. I doubt he'd even take a sip of something Dumbledore gave him let alone the tea I'd made. I know better then most why, but it makes me wonder sometimes if I'll end up the same way.

I'm a career witch. Even if I had made time in the past for a new family of my own, I'd have been terrified they'd be used as hostages against me. And I've not even been on the front lines since my 6th year in the Ministry.

When our team disbanded, we were forbidden to ever discuss what we did, learned, saw- even amongst each other.

Moody stopped by my office today to remind me that because of all our history in the Order, the Ministry, and shared friendship with Dumbledore- that publicly, I didn't know him and he would act like he didn't know me.


	16. Chapter 10, pt 3, Speaking with Nev

_GOF - After the party in the Gryffendor common room, talking about the egg._

"Auntie Lory?" A quiet voice accompanied the slightest of taps on my office doorframe.

There are only 2 of the students here at Hogwarts who call me 'Auntie' on occasion, ironically in the same class. But it was Neville who'd come out. It was unusual to see him in the broom barn when he wasn't in lessons.

"Can I help you, Neville?" I gestured him to take a seat and cleared the class notes I was working on off my desk. He took after his mother in so many ways it was sometimes difficult to see his father in him. I noticed he was trembling and looked rather ashen. He still hadn't moved towards my desk. Changing my mind, I stood and steered him towards the sitting area of my office and conjured up some peppermint tea and biscotti for us.

From long experience with him, I remained silent while he gathered his courage and words before speaking. This had been a challenging year for him- any year starting with seeing the Cruciatius curse performed was bound to traumatize him. Now fourteen, raised by his Grandmother, whom I still feel is trying to use Neville to replace Frank. Frank was an ideal child most of the time, but he had his faults. I still feel that not allowing Neville to at least acquire his own wand is undermining his self-confidence in ways that border on unhealthy.

A new wand would have played to his remaining strengths, when it became apparent he was blocking the flow of any magic his parents had used extensively. He once confessed to me he'd rather be underestimated and overlooked, then be another Harry Potter. As I said to Dumbledore, I'm thankful the mark Voldemort left on Neville was indirect and unseen.

"I remembered something today."

I clenched my hand on my cup. The memory charms that his Grandmother placed on him weakened sometimes when he was at School, she brought him home every holiday to be sure she could renew them. Neville was unaware that he was an ongoing research subject at Mungo's about the long-lasting effects of childhood memory charms. But this year Neville hadn't gone home- he'd stayed and attended the Yule ball. She wanted me to renew the charms if he started to remember anything and it didn't seem like he could deal with what he remembered.

However, in my heart, I'm not sure I can- which I'm certain is why she left the decision to me. She still wants to protect the small child she was handed to raise. He's fourteen, and needs to know the truth. After the incident with the Boggart, he admitted to me he's terrified of Professor Snape because his grandmother mentioned once he used to be a death eater and it was former death-eaters that landed his parents in Mungo's.

"Harry Potter opened the golden egg, a horrible screaming came out. I could hear the sound at first, as if from a woman screaming in moral terror, and felt like I being carried by strong arms. Then a door outlined in a soft blue light. Then I remembered a crack of red light, lighting a room full of smiling faces like seen with lightning, and I heard horrible screaming from a man this time. They called me a prat when I suggested it- but I need to know. Will Harry have to face the pain curse as the second task? Was I there when what happened to my parents..." The look in his eye decided me.

He really did want to know and was ready to hear the truth. Better more information now then not enough down the road. As Moody would say, full disclosure- takes longer, but better then trying to get the rest of the story from a corpse a week later.

"No, Harry will not be subjected to Crucio for the second task. And yes, Neville, you were there." He took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Go on."

"This is what we've put together from the evidence, what your father had told us in his brief moments of lucidity, what you told us in the beginning- You mother answered a knock at the back door and they never really expected an enemy to actually knock. She had the door forced away from her, and had the pain curse pushed on her immediately. Your father, hearing that- grabbed you out of your highchair, ran you up to the nursery, locked you in, and released the family owl with a magical message for help. The whole time, your mother was screaming. They kept on your mother to try to get information out of your father. When she collapsed, they reversed tactics and started in on him in frustration. I was among the first to arrive on the scene and start stunning everyone in sight. But not before one of them cast the dark mark above your house to let the magical world, know the death-eaters were still out there. It hadn't even begun to fade when I carried you out of there to your grandparents."

"Why us? Why the Potters? Was it because our parents were dark-wizard catchers?"

"Yes, and no. This is difficult." I take a drink of tea to help steady the words around my own grief. "Frank and Nancy were working friends of mine. We were all Aurors together." Neville looked surprised. I continued. "We think there were two reasons. First the family connections among our pure-blood lines, Voldemort swore a rather binding oath to utterly destroy the line of Gryffendor. The Potter family was only the most recent and last branch he had a chance to obliterate. One more child, and the Longbottoms would have been the final branch to go after." Neville looked positively stunned.

"I'm surprised your Grandmother never told you or showed you her book of wizarding family trees. She's tracked both the dark and light wizards for generations. She works with my Grams as a consultant for inter-family marriages. Sometime when you have a few days free, you should ask her to show you the collection. She'd love that." Frank never wanted to know about wizarding history, felt it would bias his judgements about people. Neville still looked interested.

"The Longbottoms are the last remaining collateral branch of Gryffendor's family line by a marriage of one of his Great-great-great-granddaughters to a someone on your Father's side of the family. You'll really need to ask your Grams for the details. But even more then that, I think the Death eaters went after your family because right before you were born, there was a prophesy made about a magical boy born in July who would bring down Voldemort. This child would be permanently marked by him so he would know his adversary." As well as create his adversary, but that was unnecessary information.

His eyes widened in recognition. "Harry."

"But also you, Neville. It's generally accepted by those who know the prophecy it was Harry who was marked. But it could easily have been you. Your parents were working almost around the clock to bring down the remaining death-eaters, find out if Voldemort was truly gone or where he'd gone into hiding, and keep you protected. I think they were targeted for their knowledge about the prophecy as well as to send a message to all aurors that oppose Voldemort and the remaining death-eaters."

"Lory, Do you think they'll ever get better?" There was still a child's naïve hope in his eyes. May his Grandmother forgive me for what I'm about to tell him.

"Neville, I'm not an expert- but you're old enough to know the extent of the damage. You're mother's heart was stopped for a prolonged time, causing some brain damage from the lack of oxygen. Later that first year, she had an aneurysm that nearly killed her. She may never be fully well again. What snapped your father was being forced to participate in what happened to your mother, and being unable to stop the attackers. He knows you're safe and cared for, and this helps him everyday. And his periods of lucidity are more frequent. He may yet make a relatively full recovery someday."

"Why didn't anyone tell me these things sooner?" He was openly weeping now, something he did on the rarest of occasions. For all that he was quiet and awkward, he possessed the courage that truly marked him as on of Gryffendore's own.

"We, yes- I've been involved with this as well, decided it was best to wait until you asked. It was the only way for us to be certain you were ready to hear and protect the information. You can never let on that you know these things, Neville. You'd be placing yourself needlessly in harms way, something I know you work at avoiding by choosing your confrontations carefully. Your Grandmother will not be renewing the memory charms after this, so you don't have to worry about forgetting again. You may find yourself remembering other things, so don't hesitate to come talk to me like you did today." He looked at me, a new question forming by the look on his face.

"Do you think you-know-who will be coming back?" No expression or expectation in his expression.

"Yes, I do. And I only hope we will all be prepared for when that day arrives."

He nodded, and drank the rest of his tea in silence.


	17. Chapter 11, Late Summer 1995, Umbridge C...

Thankfully I was on the turret playing chess with my brother when the owl's arrived. One was of the Ministries fast courier, a Hogwart's special messenger, a tiny owl that kept buzzing around us like a hummingbird, and about that point the Daily Prophet owl showed.

"Wha'd ya da this tim?'" Michael intoned.

"Loseth thy brogue or I shalt smite thee upon yon field of honor with the wit of thine tongue!" I quipped back. I caught the little owl the way I would a snitch, managed to get owl treats for the lot. Michael helped me get the barrage of mail and the paper.

Older by less then a year, the joking covered an unspoken fear that this barrage may mean a return to full duty for me against Voldemort or his supporters. One by one the owl's flew off the littlest one after a few happy hoots. You'd almost think it'd never delivered a letter this far out before.

"Your move still." I indicated the chessboard, collected the letters and sat down scanning the front headlines for anything of importance. Nothing jumped out as having caused this much mail to arrive at once.

I scanned all the letters, none of them seemed urgent- except in that all the meetings were less then a week away.

Ministry OWL - asking for curriculum for review to be sure it's up to ministry standards. Meeting Aug. 3 to review before start of term.

Hogwarts OWL – informing all instructors of new DADA teacher assignment; who and why, meeting Aug. 2 for brunch.

OTP – After a dementor attack H to be removed from Surry. Come to HQ 8021600.

"Shit."  
Why did Dumbledore hire THAT woman? I wandered down to the Parlor where Grams and Katie were. They looked up at my abrupt arrival.

"Gram, I think I will need the full re-outfitting this year. Robes 'befitting the station,' spells or charms to do makeup and hair at a moments notice, the full kit including tea robes, and the latest flight and dueling gear. Not to mention a full review of High Wizarding Ettiquette; the walk, the talk, the table manners- you're correct. I've gotten lax."

She gave her patented "I-told-you-so-grin."

Note- the next scene happens soon after the decree that gave Umbridge the power to go review the instructors. Lori felt that Umbridge would try to use this as an excuse to pry into her affairs at the Ministry, or worse- fire her from Hogwarts as being unnecessary staff. After hearing how the reviews were going, and how disruptive they were to the general classes- Lori decided to quietly go on the offensive, and invited Umbridge to a 'pre-review' interview. After all, it's best to keep your friends close, and your enemies guessing.

The spirit of this exchange is a verbal ping-pong of question and misdirection. I'm still working on making all the answers more short and concise, and adding details where needed- like in a work-interview setting. Lori also chose the stage and window dressing carefully. The letter invited Umbridge to interview her, but the setting of the interview was not to be over a desk, but over a Lady's High Tea.

Umbridge arrived at my office precisely on schedule.

My outer office is a mix of professional and casual setting with the required desk, files, shelves, and a few art paintings- though I preferred the light and scenery of the Hogwarts grounds and castle.

I answered the door wearing a hostess-style tea robe over loose pants and tunic. After all, I invited her for an informal interview before my formal review in a few weeks. I prefer to take the high ground in any confrontation; which is why I invited her to my office rather then meet her in the Solarium.

She was again wearing the pink cardigan against the slight chill in the air. At least she wasn't wearing any bows in her hair today.

I've been able to fully review her file these past few weeks she's been here- and have full reassurance of my department that mine has remained closed to her. Only the fact that Fudge has complete tunnel vision at this point has allowed her to rise in influence as far in the ministry as she has. Old Crouch must be spinning in his grave like an express carriage axel to see an under-secretary gain the authority once reserved for his elite Aurors. But in her personality profile, it clearly stated that Dolorus Umbridge loved intregue. If I can't use that to my advantage, I've no business saying I'm a Ravenclaw.

I open the door and rather then lead her to my desk I gesture her to the sofa, chair, and low table that I have set in the fireplace corner. We exchange a few pleasantries about work at Hogwarts, when there's a quiet knock at the door. Umbridge looked unpleased.

"I wasn't expecting you'd tolerate interruptions at your own interview."

"Proper courtesy is never an interruption. I placed a request at the castle for a full tea tray for us, many apologies that it arrived late."

Two of the house elves, one wearing clothes- made their careful way in with the tea tray. They were also precisely _on time_ per my request. They placed the tray carefully and exited with little bows. I poured the tea with decorum, offering Umbridge her cup and saucer and the first choice of the biscotti.

"So, then. To Business." She said with that odd clearing of her throat. "I was rather surprised to discover the invitation from you. The other instructors seemed rather put out that I'd be observing their classes. Won't this make you unpopular with them at the castle?"

"Times change. Everyone around here has been accustomed to the traditional non-interference role the ministry has played here at Hogwarts." I say without vocal inflection.

"Yes indeedy times change." She nodded emphatically. "And you are prepared to change with them?" She's using that grating girly voice again.

"I don't perceive much change in my routine at all, actually. I have always complied with a ministry standard in my courses- and I'm here at the bequest of the Ministry after all." Her eyebrows rose into her hairline. I stand gracefully, take the carefully prepared stack of files from my desk, and sit down again.

"Here are the ministry guidelines as they were sent to me this past July after my yearly review in June. Here is the course curriculum as I have planned for all the students under my care this year. In the second file, I've included the progress reports I've been turning into Madame Hooch on the students I've been tutoring, and the semesters full course schedule and year's goals for these individuals. The third file shows chronologically how each of the current year's classes has progressed compared to the lesson plans in the past. If you desire to see how my previous classes compare over the years I can and will produce those files for you upon request. More tea?" She held her cup out to me for refilling.

"Only a semester's worth? Not prepared for this as fully as you intended?" She smiled at me like I was a naughty three-year-old. I leaned forward slightly, placing my cup down, folded my hands, and changed my posture to one of conversation as well as implied authority.

"Fully prepared. The individual cases are a mix of a wide range of talents, as you will read. Students such as Nevelle Longbottom who nearly failed his first year flying course and students such as Draco Malfoy who's parents have asked me to aid him in the direction of advanced training as a seeker for his school quidditch team. One-on-one tutoring plans need to be tailored each week to mark the students progress, for that may be slower then anticipated or faster then expected. I'm prepared to be flexible so each individual receives the full instruction they need." Umbridge seemed a little non-pulsed at my matter of fact attitude. She chose to change the subject.

"You have an office and living quarters here at Hogwarts, but I only see you listed as staff, not as a full professor. Are you employed here full-time?" I think she's trying to catch me in a word trap.

"I'm a full staff member who, like Rubias Hagrid, have other duties to the school. In my case I'm also the one in charge of broom maintenance and repair. This job carries me through the summer when I'm not out on other Ministry business, bringing my hours here up to full-time. And I have been known to teach extra-curricular workshops on proper broom history, care, and maintenance during the school term."

"So you're not married, no family, no children?"

"As many a strong-willed and career-orientated, independent, witch is, no. But no teacher is ever truly childless." I allowed a hint of false emotion to creep into my voice. Her eyes narrowed, as if she just found a weapon to use against me. Foolish.

Time to parry words and strike back while she's least expecting it. Her next question gave me the opening I needed. I have no clearance to reveal everything, just enough for her to fill in the rest, and of course- "proper" papers.

"And you keep the brooms up to the Ministry Standards?"

"I should hope so! Like Madame Hooch, I'm also a member of the Ministry Sports and Games division."

"I tried to learn more of your background, but your records were sealed even to the Head Minister. All we could learn was you were placed here as a Ministry agent some time ago." Suspicion. This is not good. The Order can't afford to have them suspecting me of anything.

"I've clearance from my Superiors to say very little. You might remember- you were at the meeting right after Bagman was accused and acquitted of being a Death-Eater; it was well known that the children of the known and suspected death eaters would eventually come to Hogwarts or be sent over to Durmstrang. The Ministry wanted an agent to be invisible here when that happened." Time to seed truth with liberal facts.

"I also have been keeping tabs on the various teachers movements to be sure none were actively plotting or turning the students against the Ministry. There has been no suspicious activity until this past year's Tri-Wizard tournament aside from various faculty appointments." She began to look quite satisfied. Completely missing that she herself has done more in two months to turn the students against the ministry then any thing since the dark lord was around the last time.

It's sickening to me. They went to all the work to place me here, and dictated my actions for all these years to ensure an early warning, and ignore everything that's been placed in front of them these past 4 months. Now they send Umbridge to Hogwarts as my equal, making my job even harder then it already is.

"And may I have access to those reports?"

"The reports I've been given clearance to share, yes. Please, understand I can't release the rest without further Ministry authorization. However if you go to the Ministry for that clearance, might I suggest read the originals that are on file there? Up until now, I've been ordered to maintain the tradition of non-interference. I'm to give this scroll to you. My position here for the Ministry is to remain top-secret and non-interfered with. With two of us here, they feel we will see twice as much- provided the students don't suspect what I am." I don't mention my written disagreement on file regarding this.

She looked over the scroll, and it's seal. She looked back at me- again suspicious.

"And how do I know you won't interfere with me or undermine my authority?" I want to retort 'The way you're starting to do with mine you mean?' But I school my expression and posture into one to mark me, briefly, as her equal.

"We're both smart enough to know that would be a waste of our time -as we begin at an impasse. If I'm fired, I lose my cover story for being here. I'd be out of a job, living quarters, and facing a departmental inquiry for blowing a 14-year investigation. I'm undercover here, Madame Umbridge. However, it balances out. If that cover is blown, you will also be facing an Inquiry of the Highest Tribunal." She flinched, but sipped her tea thoughtfully.

The Tribunal is the panel that has the authority to throw the book, even at the wizards of the Wizengammot. I poured more tea into my cup with a generous dollup of the lighty flavored cream and stirred quietly easing back into more of an interviewee posture.

"So you teach defensive flying. What does that entail?"

"Learning to handle a broom under nearly any weather condition or turbulence, how to reckon distance and direction at heights, fly undetected by muggles, and avoid mid-air broom collisions in high traffic areas."

"Is all that really necessary?" She sounded like they had already decided it was not, and was just waiting for the review to get rid of me.

"For some wizards, the broomstick is the only form of transportation they can or will ever use. I also teach both remedial flying, as well as co-instruct the advanced groups. If any student approaches me about improving or learning quidditch skills, I teach them in either a workshop, non-competitive team environment, or as individuals. Madame Hooch as referee and primary flying instructor can't without risk of accusations of favoritism during the games. In the past for students taking the N.E.W.T. for admission for Ministry Law Enforcement, I've also worked with the defense against the dark arts teachers to set up a type of obstacle course to practice on like they'll encounter in basic training their first year." She writes something down on her scratch pad.

"How well do you get along with Professor Dumbledore? I hear he plays favorites, especially with Harry Potter. Mr. Potter ever take your classes?" It's becoming increasingly obvious why this woman was never allowed to interview suspects.

"I've always perceived that the Headmaster runs the school with efficiency and a care to his students and faculty. Harry Potter is a competent quidditch player who has uncanny luck. Personally I prefer players like recent graduate Oliver Wood who rely more on skill." I speak as dismissively as I can of both of them. Which seemed to disappoint her.

"Well, I will thoroughly review your files and see how you measure up to the new ministry standards after my observation. But I will be unavailable for restructuring that N.E.W.T. class. I'll also have to take your proposal for that to Fudge to see if it meets with his ministry standards." I smile, shake her ham-like, clammy hands as a way of acknowledgement, and lead her past the broom display to the door. I don't repeat that my classes, all of them, have been under the Ministry approval since I came here.

It's galling actually. There's so much more I could do if it wasn't for that.

I hear an expected tap at the door. Madame Hooch comes in, wearing a faint smile handed me back the extendable-ear I'd loaned her. "Well, you played that on a bit thick- don't you agree? We'll be shoveling all that manure out of here for a week! 'Would you like some tea?' Indeed!"

I pour her a cup and hand it too her with her usual two lumps. "'Top-secret job' a thestrals arse. You were straight up front with the lot of us from the beginning. And anyone who can read the Charter knows the flight classes and quidditch have been regulated since the founding of the house teams! Out a job and living space? Make that two weeks of shoveling, Finnagan!"


	18. Chapter 12, Spring 1996, He didn't let t...

I heard them first. Looking out my window, I saw two students on the pitch when it wasn't supposed to be checked out to anyone. It wasn't a great day for flying, but they seemed to be practicing. Have to hand it to them, they were trying hard. I was to meet Ginny and Ron Weasley in an hour or so, I wondered if it might be them.

I put down the book I was reading, grabbed the practice ball chest and headed out onto the field carrying my broom. They may not welcome my interference, some didn't- but I could at least bring them the real balls they needed to be practicing with as I have for many others over the years. And maybe having a teacher present would help keep any more players from losing their place on the teams. If the Gryffendor's lose any more players, they will have to forfeit the season. There was only one match left to go for the house cup. The girl, Ginny, spotted me first and signaled her brother.

At the entrance, I opened the case and released up the quaffle.

Ginny caught it deftly and gave me the high sign in thanks. I watched her play chaser and make goals around her brother. Not a bad mover, actually. Need to get her onto a better racing broom through. Ron signaled a break and had a conversation with his sister. They flew over to me. Looked like he was on the new Cleansweep. Good steady broom for chasers and beaters.

"Thanks for the balls. So it's really okay we're out here already?"

"Generally, we try to encourage the Quidditch players to tell one of us you're going to be out here in case of injury, but so far there's no educational decree against it." I smile at them, and gesture for them to sit and take a break.

"You were a trainer a while back, weren't you?" Ron asked me.

"Still am, on occasion. Why do you ask?"

"If it wouldn't be a bother, do you have any pointers? We have this big game coming up and..." I raise my hand to halt the torrent of words. Poor Ron, these games must have him tied in knots. Ginny didn't look much better and looked uncomfortable at his question. It occurred to me she hadn't told him of our earlier conversation.

"Ron, I hope you don't mind, but I asked her to coach us later this afternoon." Ron looked relieved, then pensive.

"I don't know how we're going to pay you..." I held up my hand again in a silencing gesture.

"You don't. You asked. You're students here, I'm paid to be a flying instructor here. It's already covered." I smile warmly at them both. I don't know how to explain to anyone that I'd feel awkward taking money for the coaching, I enjoy doing it too much. That and compared to getting Ireland ready for the World Cup last year, this was recreation.

"Well, if you're ready, let's get started. We've all been sitting a bit, so we'll start with some warm up flying exercises." I reach to grab my broom. Ron looked at it quizzically. I hand my Silver Arrow I to him for inspection. He let out a low whistle when he read the silver engraved words.

"At first I mistook that for a firebolt."

"Made by the same company actually, but this broom is about 75 years older. I own a Firebolt, but I prefer flying this one if I have a choice. Speaking of brooms, when we're done this afternoon, Ginny, let's hit the second floor and find you a racing broom that fits you. Ron, your broom is fine."

"But, why fly an antique when you have the best broom of this century?" I shake my head. Time to disillusion him.

"All right, a demonstration first then. Tally–Ho!" I do a toss-jump mount of the broom, (essentially jumping on the broom directly from a sitting position from the stands. A show-off move, and _not _one I'd ever try on an unfamiliar broom) and dive straight down the side of the stadium in a wronsky feint laughing.

It's been a while since I've done any stunt flying this year. Umbridge really curtailed my classess.

I pull out of the dive, skim across the field, then race at a 90 degree angle straight up 70 feet at nearly full speed before straightening out. I come to a dead-stop hover of arrested movement. I glance back at Ron and Ginny, they're hovering on their brooms by the stands gaping at me. I move the broom to full speed race to the end of the field, do a looping u-turn around the opposite goal posts, and fly back to them alternating between a full zig-zag and parallell jump-shifts in altitude.

It takes a lot of control to pull that maneuver off for a chaser or seeker. Without tilting the broom, you make parallel vertical jumps in altitude by stopping the broom and using gravity. This broom was specifically designed and charmed with this in mind.

It's one thing for a broom to be able to go from 0-120kph. It's another for the broom and rider to go from 90 – 0 to either at a hover or stop without inertia taking you over the front of the broom. Most of the newer brooms have breaking charms built in to slow a person down. Makes for graceful turns, but sloppy stops. Most professionals remove the breaking charms, and increase the airflow charms so the passage of the wind doesn't visually scramble a flyer.

I push the broom to full speed. When in play you become hyper aware of the quaffle and other players. The visual reversing effect of the stadium pulling away from you rather then towards you isn't quite as disorientating. I fly back towards them slowing slightly before ending with a fancy barrel roll and stealing the quaffle from Ron who was holding it loosely. I flew over to the goal posts and made a score. Catching the quaffle on the way down, and finally came back to a still-hover.

"How did you learn to fly like that? Where did you find that broom- it's amazing!"

"Years of practice. Remember what I keep telling you in the workshops. A well cared for or properly refurbished 'antique' can fly better then many of the newer brooms out there. Now then you play keeper? And Ginny, you're the seeker?" I pull my wand out and summon the snitch from the open case. I tap it once with my wand to slow it down a bit.

"Ginny, the Snitch will not leave the stadium area. What I want you to do for the next 20 minutes or so is just fly after it. Don't catch it, but don't let it out of your sight either. Get used to the way it moves, and changes directions." I released the snitch for her to follow and turned to Ron who was starting to look nervous again.

"Ok, I've seen your games and several of your team's practices. First thing to remember, you're not Oliver, you're Ron. Second thing, keep your eyes on the game and your attention on the quaffle. Third, trust your broom. We're going to start slow. Back to basics. Catch. I threw the quaffle directly at him. He caught it. Then looked amazed at himself for catching it.

We worked catch and release at a steadier pace and increasing distance. After about 5 minutes of this without warning I'd alternate between throwing at him, and throwing the ball randomly at the hoops. When he'd caught balls I'd thrown at the hoops 20 times without dropping or flailing, I called for a break and looked around for Ginny and told her to bring the snitch up to me. I tapped the snitch with my wand to bring it back to full speed and purpose.

I gave them a chance to catch their breath, get some water, and led them into the next exercises. I set Ginny to playing catch and release with the snitch. A seeker flies to the middle of the stadium, closes his or her eyes, and releases the snitch. Counts to ten, then seeks and chases it down. Repeats from wherever they stop. Advanced and professional players will use a stopwatch to time themselves, sometimes will release a bludger or two to keep things real.

Ron and I returned to the goals. Ron starting to look eager rather then green to the gills. "Ron, this time I want you to hit the ball back to me without using your hands. Use your head, the tail of your broom, your body, but not your arms our your hands." He looked at me a bit confused. I tossed the quaffle to him and had him throw it at me. I whipped around with my seat to bat the ball with the brush of the broom through a goal. The advantage of being a broom technician is that if the charms fail, I can repair the broom easily. We worked this for another 20 minutes before I called Ginny in for a breather and some water.

I gave Ginny a sit and went back to work with Ron. This time set him to using the two techniques we'd been working on to block all the various ways I could think of to try to get the quaffle past him without having other team mates to pass to and from or bludgers bouncing in and out of play. When he'd blocked me, batted, or caught the quaffle about 25 times without flailing weather I made a goal or not, I sent him to the bleachers and called Ginny back out to watch and time her with catch and release.

She moved into seeker position on the field. I released the snitch, which flew to her and out of sight while our backs were turned. I counted to 10 out loud, nodded, started the clock and she was off and searching.

We practiced like this for about three hours total when I called it quits and invited Ginny to come pick out a different broom. As we walked to the barn carrying the ball chest, I congratulated them on a good practice, and made individual appointments with them for later in the week and on the following weekend when we reached my office. My office broom rack holds four brooms, my Silver Arrow I and II, the Firebolt, and the Shooting Comet I flew when I as a student.

I grabbed the heavy keys for the second floor and led the way upstairs. Ron looking interested in the 'hall of broom history' between Madame Hooch's office and our waiting area. "I'm hoping to be able to do my full workshop on all the brooms in those cases again next year. I'll be sure you get the memo if you'd like?" He nodded enthusiastically.

We climbed up to the second floor where the racks of racing brooms were held. I was looking for two brooms in particular that I'd just finished and donated back to the school. One was a Comet 220, the other a Nimbus 1500. Neither broom would draw too much attention to her, but either would be ideal for a seeker as small and light as Ginny, no matter what the weather was.

Harold was my flight tester for these, and agreed that once again, I'd managed to make older models fly as good if not a little better then their newer counterparts. Much of that is due to re-charging and upgrading the original charms, and the rest from using the upgraded designs the modern brooms were using. The only difference is that these brooms respond better to the skill of the rider, rather then responding to the subtle hand pressure on the neck of the broom that the most current brooms have.

My younger sister who works at a menagerie sanctuary has ridden everything from hippogriffs, thestrals, to muggle horses compares it to the partnership between her and the beast. The older brooms are like horses trained to be ridden bareback with leg and knee pressure to guide them, while the newer brooms are neck-reigned or use both.

I handed her the Nimbus first and had her cast up. The broom rose crisply, I had her mount the broom and hover for me. I then had her repeat the exercise on the Comet. I thought her seat and posture were much more balanced on the Comet.

"Without a doubt, Ginny, that one." Ron said suddenly.

"Why this one?" She asked, turning.

"You didn't just see your face."

Siblings. They will always be able to read you like an open book at the most surprising times. I re-rack the Nimbus and we walk back down the stairs.

"Take it and try it out for a few days. If you find you like it, keep it. If not, we'll try you on the Nimbus, or another." I was pretty certain that she wouldn't be bringing it back.

"I'll have to hand it back at the end of the year won't I?" She sounded concerned.

"If you find you like it that much, I'll see what I can do so you won't have to. You're a school quidditch player, if you can, you should stay in flying trim over the summer."

I bid them a good afternoon, and luck on their studying. I don't mention that she wouldn't even be the tenth student who's walked out of here with one of my brooms. Quality Quidditch Supplies has had a 'broom scholarship' program for Quidditch players for years that very few take advantage of because the brooms are used not new.

At the end of the year, if broom and rider have taken to each other and there isn't another broom to exchange, I contact Quality Quidditch. They purchase the broom from Hogwarts for the students use, remove the school property crest, and give the broom to the student with their complements. That money goes into the fund to purchase new replacements for the older brooms. Usually students can't afford or aren't lucky enough to fly the best on the market.

I do what I can to keep the school racing brooms competitive with the privately owned brooms on the field. When the Slytherin's went to Nimbus 2001's, (why is still beyond me) and Harry Potter got a Firebolt (exactly how Sirius pulled that off I still don't want to know. I'm afraid I'd have to arrest him.)- I did a full upgrade for free on brooms for any of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students who came to me. More then once, I've suggested standardizing the quidditch brooms to a certain make and model depending on player positions, but the School Governors have overturned that suggestion every time.

Probably just as well. Left up to me, I'd have the whole lot of Hogwarts seekers and chasers on Comet 260's, and the beaters and keepers on Cleansweep6's and have done with it. I'd also insist on broom inspections before and after each game with points removed from the houses for any hex or unusual damage found on opposing players brooms. If I had 5 points for every hex, prank, and broken broom after some of the games with Slytherin these past few years under Marcus Flint, they wouldn't have a chance at the house cup. I'd also like to add special awards for team members who have good form and sportsmanship even when losing.

And while I'm wishing, I'll add in a weather-proof stadium so I don't have to get totally rain-soaked watching some of these matches.

Back to work, Finnigan.


	19. Chapter 13, Spring 1996, aftermath at th...

I can see a light is still on in Dumbledore's office when I finally return from the Ministry and tiredly decide to head up to the Castle.

The Department of Mysteries has been left a total mess, the insipid fountain in the main courtyard has been destroyed, and Fudge saw proof with his own eyes that Voldemort is out there.

Fudge and others began to try to pin this fiasco on me, questioning me in turn about what I knew about Harry Potter's movements and motivation this night and why wasn't he stopped from leaving the grounds with a group of his friends. What my movements have been or what he thought they _should _have been to be in a position to prevent the debacle this evening.

In the middle of his interrogation he called my superiors; the heads of Magical Law Enforcement as well the Department of Mysteries. Finally, after 2 hours of hard questioning, going around in circles, and going over all the what if's, should's, and might have been's, I finally lost control of my temper and started ranting at the lot of them. Beginning with speaking through clenched teeth and slowly starting to yell at them. To all hells with professional curtsey, and this job.

"Sirs, what would you have had me do? You have my written and expressed concerns from the beginning of the year that having two agents on essentially the same assignment would cause a conflict. I came here several times throughout the year because my movements, investigation, and abilities were being sharply curtailed by Madame Dolorus Umbridge; even more so that I had to come here in person to maintain the secrecy of my mission."

"She had some of the very students I was supposed to be keeping an eye on watching and reading ALL posts in or out of the castle and watching the floo network- including mine." I felt like my temperature was rising, that I was overheating. I stand up and start pacing on the podium stand they sat me on."

"She let the power you gave her, _you_, Head Minister Cornealius Fudge; go to her head. She used a blood-ink quill for lines in detention- there are more then a few students that will have those lines PERMANENTLY etched into their skin unless other magical means are taken to remove them. I can only hope the ministry will provide that care at no cost to the students' families."

"She has used Veritiserum throughout the year on both students and faculty. She attacked Professor Minerva McGonnagal, landing her in Mungo's. And you have my written complaints logged here about these and other excesses." I heard one of the banner poles behind me break like the sound of a bone and clatter to the floor. I felt overcharged and was beyond caring.

"I have witnessed accounts that she cast the Cruciatious Curse, an UNFORGIVABLE curse, that should have her handed over to Azkaban, on Harry Potter before he arrived here last night. That her prevention of communication kept Mr. Potter from being able to conclusively confirm or deny that someone he cared for was in danger here at the ministry. She took his broom; denied him quidditch- paperwork for a lifetime ban on him is still in progress with the games and sports division. With that ban on him, _Sirs_, he was no longer my student and taken from under my observation and placed DIRECTLY under hers."

Damb her. Another banner pole snapped and fell to the floor.

"Head Minister, You witnessed yourself that Bartimus Crouch Jr. had impersonated Alester Moody before you demented him. That's two years in a row that the students have been subjected to unforgivable curses; by teachers who were supposed to be trusted authority figures. Do you realize that the only decent instruction they've had in the last 5 years in Defense Against the Dark Arts, were a professor possessed by Voldemort during the last year of his tenure, a Werewolf, and by Harry Potter in a group club that defied a ministry educational decree? And the Ministry wants to dictate ANYTHING over there? Where do you get the idea that you can do better then Dumbledore when choosing faculty! Why have I been there for these past 15 years if you're going to tie my hands behind my back and prevent me from doing the very job you placed me there to do when you need me to do it the most?" I pause long enough to catch my breath. And the final banner fell to the ground with a splintering crash.

"Miss Finnigan, are you quite finished?" This from the head of the department of Mysteries, my department head all these years.

"Only to say, you are _not_ going to put this fiasco on _my_ head when the true blame lies on many, including the Head Ministers and that so called High Inquisitor." Taking a deep breath I glanced back at the wall hangings. I took my wand briefly and sarcastically cast _reparo_. I sit down in the chair provided and fold my hands, which I discover are still shaking.

My department-head merely looks bemused, Magical Law Enforcement looks thoughtful, and Fudge looked positively outraged. He places his hands on the table and stands up slowly. Apparently as angry as I am.

"Madame Finnigan I expect your resignation on my desk in the morning and your cubicle cleaned out tonight under supervision."

"Fine." I flicked my wand in his direction and _apparated _a sealed scroll that I'd already prepared for this in front of him, teleported from my desk.

"Lori, don't be hasty. Cornealius, sit down. _Accio scroll_. Obviously everyone is quite worked up about this. We need to think and act about these things rationally." The scroll flew to the Head of Magical Law Enforcement's hands. He broke the seal and read my formal resignation with a low whistle.

"She's not bluffing." He handed the scroll to my Department head. I continue to glare defiantly. The scroll also affirms my silence in all Ministry dealings and investigations for my entire career. I remain silent; Fudge sits down almost looking defeated.

"He's really back, isn't he." None of us answer. I have a feeling mine isn't the only temper close to the breaking point in this regard. I finally break the silence.

"Minister, you have only two choices. Resign your position, or begin to work with Dumbledore on the plans that he's been trying to put into motion. Either way, come to grips with the fact that he doesn't want your job, and never has or he'd have had it _before _now. In simple terms- help, or get out of the way of those who are working to preserve the future."

"Professor? Are you still up?"

"Come in, Lori." The door opens on a disaster scene similar to the one I just left. His office was in shambles. The beautiful silver instruments were scattered, books everywhere, the contents of his desk were on the floor. The paintings for a change were not pretending to be asleep.

"By the light! Professor, what happened?" One of the paintings answered.

"Young Harry Potter lost his temper. Didn't know he had that much energy left in him after this nights going's on."

"Potter did all this?" I didn't know whether to be impressed or horrified. "Are you all right, Professor?"

"I finally told him the truth. I am unharmed. And what has you awake at this late hour. How did the inquiry go?"

"Professor," I said bending down and picking up a piece of broken something and trying to place it carefully on his desk, "this might not be the best time to discuss these things."

"Sometimes, there's no time like the present."

"All right then. Unless you would deeply prefer otherwise for my work in the Order, I plan to retire from ministry work." Dumbledore motioned for me to sit down. I gratefully took one of the old chairs.

"Mr. Potter is not the only one who lost a temper tonight- and even after all these years I still have no control over my wyrd when my temper is up. Head minister Fudge attempted to order my registration but was overturned by the other department heads after I handed it to him. After this farce of a year, and what they allowed to happen, I'm not sure I can support this ministry in good faith. If you'd allow, I'd like to continue teaching and working here."

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

"No, Albus, I'm not. And I'm sure this is something I'm going to need to sleep on, possibly even see what action Fudge takes after the evening's events. But I just still feel so very angry. I was placed here years ago to give an early waning to the ministry and protect the students if a year like this one were to happen."

"And this year when they needed to listen, they turned a deaf ear and ignored what they didn't want to hear. When I needed to act, they tied my hands- and worse, they tied yours. And now we have one boy on the edge of a breakdown, and students and Order members in the infirmary. And Sirius..." I look away, my hands shaking again. "Professor, I just don't feel that we won anything this night." I look around his office as a little puff of smoke escaped from a pile of silver on the floor.

"You know something, Lori?" I looked directly at him. "You're right. And this mess can wait until daylight. There's somewhere else we need to be right now." He holds his hands out to me. I take one and he leads me to the fireplace. He throws a handful of floo powder into the ever-present fire.

"12 Grummings Place." Green flames engulf us. We step out into the kitchen where it seems the entire order has gathered around Lupin. Molly is fussing around the kitchen, but the scene is missing something without Tonks knocking something down every three minutes. Dumbledore conjures up two more chairs. Bill Weasley brings two cups of tea over for us as we sit down. The doorbell rang, sending Sirius's mom shreaking again. The look in Lupin's eyes would have set wet wood to a brisk fire.

"Won't people ever learn not to ring that blasted bell?" Molly said to no one in particulur.

I followed Lupin into the hallway to let Mrs. Figg who was helping Minerva McGonnagal in, followed by Hagrid. The painting shrieked all the louder about half-breed scum.

"I. Have. Had. Enough. Mrs. Black." Lupin advanced on the painting as he had done many times in the past. But instead of reaching for the curtains, he reached for his wand.

"INCENDERO!!!" He screamed, with all the pain and anguish he must be feeling. Hearing the hate spew forth out of that woman's mouth must have been too much. The painting burst into hot flames too fully and quickly for her to even scream. Lupin slumped forward with the expenditure of that much energy. I cast _finete incontata _to prevent the flames from spreading to the curtains or tinder-dry wallpaper. Lupin looked up at the wall, at Hagrid, then at me. The look on his face was indescribable.

"I think I killed her." He fell onto the steps and started laughing, running his hands threw his hair. Hagrid and I had seen him like this in the early years after James' death. Hagrid moved to put a giant arm around him. The laughter quickly turned to sobbing hysterics. Lupin, beating a fist into Hagrid. I moved in on the other side, as I often had to offer what comfort a stranger could. Eventually, as we knew it would- exhaustion claimed him, and Hagrid carried him to the room Lupin had claimed here at the Manor.

Lupin the last Marauder.

I just sat staring at the scorched painting feeling completely numb for the first time all night. I heard a quiet footstep approaching the stairs, and begin to climb. Dumbledore passed me on his way to Lupin's room. Our eyes met briefly. I went to the drawing room with the tapestry rather then go back to the kitchen.

I paced, trying to run out some of the energy that was coursing through me again. I had images running through my head like a torrent of rain; the look on Lupin's face during the intragation all those years ago, falling down, having seizures. The contrast of working with him on the NEWT obstacle course when he was teaching at Hogwarts, his face alight with ideas, talking with him and Sirius these past two years- seeing the fierce joy both shared at having their pack-brother back. Trying, too late, to pick up the aftermath of first Hogwarts, then the Ministry of Magic. Too late to help, unable to prevent how the evening unfolded.

I was too late. I wanted to scream.

"Get in here before you wear another hole in what's left of that carpet!" Moody's voice came in through the halls. Either his sharp hearing or that dammed eye of his caught my pacing. I returned to the kitchen. Saw that Snape and Aurther Weasley had arrived. Molly pressed another cup for tea on me. Fletcher passed a small flask over to me, taking the stopper off I took a delicate sniff and handed it back to him, firewhisky not being something I cared for. To my surprise, McGonnagal handed over a round bottle.

"Irish Cream and Scot's brandy. The best of both the Isles." I smile a little as I pour a shot into the cup and hand the bottle back to her with a look of thanks. Dumbledore returned to the kitchen with Hagrid and Lupin.

But to everyone's surprise, it was Snape who raised his glass and said the words of the order's traditional toast, given at moments like these, "To Sirius. May he join the ashes of our fallen comrades, that we may we rise again the stronger from having known his friendship."

"To Sirius."

We all raised our glasses and toasted our fallen friend, and comrade.


	20. Chapter 14, Spring 1997, Fall of Hogwart...

Here is where I begin to take a wild ride into the future of the HP world. According to the timelines I've been using, here are the years of the books. 

_91-92 SS/PS; 92-93 COS; 93-94 POA; 94-95 GOF; 95-96 OotP; _

_96-97 6th year; 97-98 7th year_

Spring, 1997 – End of Harry Potter's 6th Year at Hogwarts.

Due to the burial of the information by Fudge for the year following his return, Lord Voldemort was able to regain a strong foundation of power.

In the second year- even after acknowledgment the old Death Eaters began to practice atrocities on muggle and wizard families that Fudge managed to keep out of the press until the cover-ups grew too numerous that a reformed Rita Skeeter blew the whistle.

Unfortunately, due to her pervious exaggerations, no one believed the threat was as great as she made it out to be. She was found murdered in her office a month later, all her files burnt by magic.

Hogsmede was attacked during a visitation weekend, before the Christmas holidays at Hogwarts in the winter of 1996. Professor Flitwick was in the Three Broomsticks, and heroically held off the death-eaters, giving the students and other customers inside a chance to escape through the secret tunnel in the basement, guided by Lupin, Harry, Hermione and Ron Weasley.

Lupin, who was again teaching at Hogwarts, reveiled that he and his friends had discovered the tunnel while still a student at Hogwarts. Flitwick was killed, along with two other professors and several inhabitants of the town.

Lory, who had been teaching and tutoring at Hogwarts for 12 years was nominated by the other heads of households and faculty to be elevated to a full professorship, and become the new Head of Ravenclaw house during the Spring term. Many parents began to pull their students out of Hogwarts, but the threat to the wizard world increased, and the students returned after Easter with many requests pouring in for the students to be allowed to stay during the summer.

Dumbledore tried to keep things as normalized as possible for the students, despite his increased involvement with fighting the Death-eaters and Lord Voldemort. During that summer, there were rumors that the Giants were beginning to make trouble in the north, and two unsussessful attacks were made against Hogwarts and the Ministry. A Yule Ball and feast were again held for the many students remaining over Christmas.

There were increasing rumors of a threat against Hogwarts. Fudge was asked for ministry help to reinforce the school, but Dumbeldores refusal to allow dementores back on the grounds angered Fudge to the breaking point and prevented any further ministry support. A freed Lucious Malfoy again tried to have Dumbledore removed as headmaster, but the rest of the govenors refused to give into him.

Finally, in the spring of 1997, Voldemort staged a massive and successful attack against Hogwarts.

I slipped my robe, shoes, and socks off and stepped into the quiet waters of the lake. It was fresh. It was cold.

It was clean.

I stood in the shallows and watched the mist over the water in the early morning light. The sun was just starting to creep over the horizon. It looked to be one of the rare beautiful spring mornings. I rinsed the soot and blood off my hands and face.

It had been a long night.

Those of us that were left were all waiting in silence.

The mists began to lift, and the full extent of the damage began to make itself apparent. The forest was still smoldering, the stadium and other outbuildings were leveled, and the castle had been nearly destroyed, and there was a thick column of smoke rising from the direction of Hogsmeade.

I turned away from the lake back towards our makeshift camp. The students I could see were all staring in numb shock at the castle. I felt anger rising. They were supposed to be safe and protected here. We took the chance that the death-eaters wouldn't attack their own children, and we were wrong. I suppose they were still safest here. We got most the remaining students out on the brooms, as the founders had originally planned.

Which is more then we can say for most of the staff.

Dumbledore was dead.

I splashed some more water on my face. I heard the sound of an owl making it's way towards me. I had an owl treat in my hand before it fully came into view. It was Hedwig, her snowy coloring easy to see in the morning light and gray soot that still filled the air. She settled herself on my gauntlet, drooping a little as if she understood what was happening. I had sent her for a Daily Prophet before the sun came up. I stilled myself before unfolding the paper, knowing what I was going to find.

"Wizard World In Panic" The main headline practically screamed out. The article below had been contributed by one of the journalists that have been embedded with us since the siege on the wizard world began.

"Muggles watched as riots of wizards take to streets as the news of Professor Albus Dumbledore's death reached the public..." I skimmed the article further. "... The remaining Hogworts staff did get the majority of students out, but many were lost as two of the dormitory towers collapsed, and more when the great hall fell..." The last line of the article read, "The wizard world is left without hope, as Harry Potter is counted among the missing. No doubt, he died bravely." I re-rolled the paper, gave it back to Hedwig and had her take it to the other professors.

I left the water, put my shoes back on, and walked back uphill towards the infirmary tent. A girl I recognized through the soot as Hermione Granger stopped me. Her arm was in a sling, and her cat was walking beside her. I remember seeing her wrench Ron away from the collapsing towers and onto her broom yelling all the while at him that Ginny was already out.

"How's Ron?" I asked quietly.

"He's with Ginny and Neville. Hagrid sent me. Professor McGonagall is asking for you."

"Of course, thanks." She looked like she was about to say something else, but started walking with me toward the tent. "What is it Hermione?"

"Have you found him?" I guessed she meant Harry.

"Not yet. That Fidelius Charm is working against us, but we'll find him." We walked the rest of the way in silence. The students and few remaining staff we passed were in shock, looked lost, or utterly without hope. The house elves moved among them, distributing food and drink. We reached the tent; I stepped through the flap while Hermione went back to her tent area. Professors Snape, and Sprout were already there with Madame Pomphry.

I sat down beside them near Professor McGonagall who was speaking quietly.

"If ever there was a time to use it, it is now." She gestured at the newspaper. She looked at me sharply in spite of her numerous injuries. We all had been told there was nothing we could do but keep her comfortable.

"But which one of us? Finnagan, where were you last night? What orders did he give you?"

"After I got the brooms to the great hall, and led the Ravenclaw students out, I was sent to help Hagrid and Charlie Weasly evacuate the forest and fight the fires the death eaters had started, why?" Snape and McGonagall exchanged a look. McGonagall spoke quietly.

"This is important, Lori, you were NOT in the castle at all last night, you were with Charlie and Hagrid?" I nodded my affirmative. I felt my eyes widen in surprise as she reached under her robes and pulled out a fine gold chain with a miniature hourglass attached to it. "You are going to have to be the one to use this, then."

"Professor?" I always wondered what happened to the time-turner Hermionie had used a couple of years ago.

"I'm dying, Lori. And the others were around Dumbledore off and on throughout the night." She started coughing, blood showing at the side of her mouth. Snape shushed her, while Sprout ordered her to lay still and continued the explanation.

"We could run into ourselves. Our world needs Dumbledore, even now more then ever. The decision to use the time turner should be made by all the heads of the households, and ideally the one to use it should be one of us. That leaves you left, as head of Ravenclaw." Sprout dabbed at the tears that welled up in her eyes, unable to continue. Any mention of Professor Flitwick did that do her.

Snape took the time turner from McGonagall and placed it over my head, looking at me with the question in his remaining eye. There really was no other choice.

"Twelve turns should be sufficient to return you to dinner last night, before we got the owl back during evening tea. We think the professor died in the great hall with the last of the students when the ceiling finally collapsed. None of us were there to be sure he got on his broom. Stay by his side, keep him safe, and get him out of the castle. If you can also get the other students out, do it." His voice was rougher then usual this morning through the scarring of his throat.

"One last thing," McGonagall spoke, again coughing a little. "This is going to be a major event to change, and a lot of time. We have no idea how you will get back here and replace yourself. Or if you even can."

"I understand. Lay still, Professor. Conserve your strength." I stood up, and Madame Pomphry came and took my place.

"Good luck, Professor Finnigan." She said quietly.

I nodded, not trusting my voice. I took the miniature hourglass and turned it over 12 times. The world dissolved around me, moving backwards quickly through the hours I would give anything not to relive.

When the world stopped spinning, I was again standing beside the lake. It was just coming on towards sunset, and the students were inside eating dinner. I quickly ran to my office in the broom shed tucking the time-turner into my robes. The only way I could conceivably pull this off would be to use my old invisibility cloak, and to grab a broom.

The cloak was going to be destroyed in the fire that would happen in the shed anyway so this was not a big piece of history to change. I know I have about one hour to get into position in the castle before the gates fully lock for the night, and another hour beyond that before the message would arrive.

I looked at the 'Hall of Broom History' that Madame Hooch and I worked on so hard together. I remembered that no one would be in the broom barn ever again, that the fire had jumped from the forest to the stadium, to the shed. There was a set-spell that she and I cast, so in case of fire we could still save these brooms. It's a small change, but worth it to me to save something Hogwart's history.

I tapped the first case with my wand to open it. I tapped my wand twice upon the oldest broom in residence and all the brooms vanished from their cases. I could retrieve them from my home workshop whenever I was able. The whole process took less then a minute, just as it was designed.

There was one other thing I realized I could do that might make a slight difference later. I magic opened all the doors on the second floor, and moved the stored racing brooms down to the first floor, and set the main barn door slightly ajar. Brooms arriving faster would get more of the students out of the castle before the whole thing came down, and get more of the brooms into the air before the shed caught on fire.

Knowing I could have difficulties if the Firebolt and Artemis brooms I called for Charlie and Myself didn't arrive, I grabbed my Silver Arrow II from its holder. I wrapped the cloak around me, and flew to the castle. I still had a half hour left before lockout.

Under the cloak, I snuck into the great hall as Professor Trelawney made her dramatic entrance during dessert. She was running, and had all the way from her tower. Hands tearing threw her hair and tears running freely down her face to mix with the blood from the scratches she had gouged into her skin.

"I saw it! It! Ashes! Ashes and dust! All, All is lost! Fly, you must fly away from here! They're coming! They're on their way now!" Snape, from the end of the head table was the first to reach her. Trying to hold her arms to her sides to keep her from further hurting herself.

Trelawney struggled violently in his arms kicking and screaming incoherently about the need to get away. Would that we had listened. But Trelawney was our Cassandra, a prophetess who would never be believed when she told the truth. Dumbledore cast a spell of sleep on her. All eyes were on him.

"Prefects, please lead your houses back to the dormitories. The rest of you, please adjourn with me to discuss this."

The students filed past me. As the Gryffindors passed, I took one last look at Harry Potter as he talked with his friends, rubbing his forehead. I was tempted to follow and protect him, but my assignment was Dumbledore.

While the sound of footsteps would still cover mine, I ran the length of the hall to follow the teachers to the parlor off of the great hall. I tried to yawn quietly as I watched the debate between the professors, the ghosts, and the head boy and girl. Finally, two owls were sent and they left. I knew once the return owl returned from the ministry, Dumbledore would send the household professors to the dormitories to tell the students to throw a few small things into their backpacks and go to the great hall to quickly evacuate the castle.

I lay on one of the couches conserving energy, making sure that the door was open for me to hear what was going on. I might have dozed a little when I heard the doors to the hall burst open. I risked a looked out of my hiding place.

Professor Dumbledore was the first person back in the great hall carrying Fawkes, I heard him directing Dobby who the head of the house elves, to quickly pack all the non-perishable food in the kitchen, fill some water barrels and get the elves out into hiding on the grounds around the lake. The elf snapped his fingers and disappeared presumably to the kitchens. I joined him not long after with the Ravenclaw students following behind me. We watched him direct Fawkes to carry the sorting hat out to the grounds beyond the lake and wait there for him in hiding.

Most of the Ravenclaw students had cleverly decided early in the year to have an emergency pack of clothes, small keep-sakes and photos, dry food, and water ready to grab-and-go and left with wands and cloaks. When the word came to evacuate the castle, they helped the few who hadn't done this with quick-packing a few belongings and leaving the rest behind. No Ravenclaw was left behind in the tower, which as one of the tallest was the first to crumble in a blast that shook the castle right after we reached the great stairs.

I watched myself help Professor Dumbledore blast out all the windows of the hall, clear the glass, and call the brooms. The Ravenclaw students were the first to leave the hall en masse as the rest of the students began to pour in. To save brooms for the students arriving later they rode out two on a broom. Other students shared brooms some did not. Many of the houses Quidditch players flew past on their own personal brooms, wands at the ready to defend their schoolmates as they left. We heard and felt the second rumble shake the castle.

No Gryffindors had arrived yet. Time seemed to slow down to a crawl, where everything was moving quickly, but not fast enough.

The Slytherin students were the next large group to arrive, looking overly calm but still very frightened under the circumstances. Most of them were carrying brooms and flew out without a backwards glance. Dumbledore directed Myself, Snape and Professor Sprout who arrived with the Hufflepuff's to guard the students as they exited. We left on the student brooms.

I flew back in a few minutes later just as the first of the Gryffindors arrived. I recognized two as Ginny and Charley Weasley nearly carrying Professor McGonagall.

Madame Pomfrey and Professor Sinistra also arrived levitating a large chest marked _INFIRMERY. _Poppy quickly conjured a stretcher and directed them to place Professor McGonagall on it. Ginny and Neville flew the broomsticks that guided her out to the grounds another Gryffindor helped Sinistra guide the medicine chest. As she flew out, she called out that the owls had been released.

"We were attacked, Professor." One of the students, I think possibly Seamus Finnigan told Dumbledore. "They were after Harry. They blasted out the windows of his dorm room, and I think he was placed under the imperius curse. He fought it, but there was more then one voice that cursed him. He told us to run. But last I saw he was on his Firebolt flying away from the castle. That was when they blasted the tower down around us. McGonagall got buried by part of the masonry, we got her out, and the rest are still helping to guide the others out the new exit Hermione blasted for us." Dumbledore caught a broom and handed it to him, voicelessly telling him to follow the others.

"Dumbledore, they've set the forest on fire- Hagrid is working to stop the fire and evacuate the creatures, but needs help," I reported. Snape and Sprout flew back and reported that the Death-eaters had surrounded the area and were launching cannonball-like masses of energy at the castle itself. Dumbledore looked like he was thinking quickly.

"Sprout, gather the first year students and any others not able to work and have them help Poppy set up an infirmary tent away from the burning areas. Charlie, go take some of the 2nd and third year students to help Hagrid, and get the fires under control. Lori, round up some of these brooms and get them over to Gryffindor tower then work with the 4th and 5th years to keep the death eaters away from the forest, especially from the unicorns. Fight the fires, as you're able. Snape, organize the sixth and seventh years to protect the grounds and the students unable to help." As we left, I looked back once. Dumbledore stood like a beacon of calm near the windows still directing the students out and telling them their various assignments. Another blast rocked the castle. From my hiding place I saw the damage the hall pillars were already showing.

I realized a very significant change occurred. There were enough brooms to round up and take to the tower. This would get many of the Gryffindors out before it came down in a few minutes.

Gryffindor students continued to trickle in painfully small groups mixing with the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins still grabbing brooms. I knew Dumbledore wouldn't leave until he was sure the last of the students were well away from the castle. Another loud crash sounded of stone against stone shaking of the castle, this one enough to send Dumbledore to the floor. He stood up, brushed himself off, looked at the pillars with a worried expression as another small group of students ran to the hall, joining the queue of those grabbing brooms and flew out.

I knew from before that shaking blast was the remainder of the Ravenclaw tower falling, taking part of the surrounding castle with it, and trapping more Gryffindor students under the masonry.

Hermione and Ron flew with me to get students still on the grounds to help dig out the students caught in the rubble while I rounded up those who would be with me defending the forest. Charlie and I would notice the fire had jumped to the broom barn, and the array of brooms smoldering on the ground like tinder twigs. But we'd pause long enough to retrieve my Firebolt for him, and my Silver Arrow I for me for greater maneuverability through the forest.

Ron took over the broom I was riding so He and Hermione weren't riding double. In flight, she told me that several groups were already out, and trying to get to the great hall. I passed this information onto Snape as he flew back to the hall. Guessing the Gryffindor prefect was with Snape, I left Hermione and Ron in charge of working at the tower, and flew to defend the forest and keep the fires from spreading further not to return to the castle until dawn.

I flew out of my hiding place, out the window, threw off the cloak and flew back into the hall after Snape left the third time.

"Lori, what are you doing back here?" Dumbledore spoke sharply. He looked at me over his spectacles. It was perhaps the first time I'd ever tried lying to him. And I still couldn't do it.

"The other professors sent me back. To protect you." He looked at me with his sad eyes, nodded, and let me stay. More brooms were still arriving for the waiting students. I sent out another broom call, this time for the ones that would be lying abandoned on the grounds from the students unable to fly further tonight due to shock and was rewarded a few minutes later as a new cadre of brooms flew through the windows.

The last of the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors in the hall flew out. We heard an odd crunching sound, and some plaster fell from the ceiling. I caught one of the racing brooms as it came through the window, recognizing it as a Slytherin Quidditch team broom. I was now holding two brooms in one hand, and my wand in the other.

Another group of Gryffindors came through the doors. Calling out there were still two groups behind them. The next group confirmed there was one group left and that some of the stairways had collapsed which was part of what was taking so long.

More masonry fell from the ceiling into the empty hall. Dumbledore pointed his wand up to reinforce the arches. There was a loud explosion to the side and hideous laughter as the entire west wall of the hall blasted in. Without thinking I pushed Dumbledore towards the south windows behind the think wood of the head table. We saw the final group of students reach the hall. Dumbledore continued to levitate the ceiling up as I directed the last of the brooms across the hall to them to speed up the process. They flew out through the opening in the wall riding double.

I put my Silver Arrow II into Dumbledor's hands and told it to fly, mounting the Slytherin's broom wand at ready to protect him. Just as we cleared the rubble, there was a great shaking and the great hall fell.

In the weak moonlight, I saw the hooded, masked, and cloaked figures of the death-eaters flying off into the night. The grounds lit up strangely by the green light of a giant dark mark mixing with brilliant orange from the flames. We saw the fire raging unchecked in the Quidditch stadium and other outbuildings. The smoke was obscuring most of the castle's damage.

Dumbledore and I flew down to the infirmary tent. He checked on McGonagall, who I already knew had suffered massive trauma and was bleeding internally. Dumbledore called Fawkes to him, who arrived still carrying the sorting hat. Fawkes stood near her, tears dripping from his eyes onto the wounds. Her breathing seemed to get a little easier. We sat in silence, watching for further signs of her condition improving. Finally, Dumbledore stood up, and motioned for me to follow him out of the tent.

"Please Explain. Why didn't you follow the orders I gave?" His voice held no inflection, no judgment. I took the time turner out from my robes. "Ah. You didn't. You are still off helping Hagrid and Charlie. Why did the others send you back?"

"As I said before, to protect you and save over a quarter of the students." He looked at me, waiting for further information. I squared my shoulders before I continued.

"Most of the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students died when the tower and hall collapsed. The brooms originally didn't arrive fast enough before the shed caught on fire. And there's more." I took a deep breath of the smoky air.

"You died when the hall collapsed, Professor, and it was like a catalyst. The wizard world lost its remaining hope and in panic started rioting and fully exposed our world to the Muggles. All the heads of households agreed to send me back, since I wasn't near the castle the whole night. I won't even be back on the main grounds until closer to sunrise. I may still need to be sent back 12 hours with the time turner, with the instructions to guard you, and try to save the students that were with you in the hall when it collapsed." He looked in the direction of the castle.

"And Harry Potter?"

"Because of the Fidelius Charm, we were unable to track him without you. But they didn't kill him outright in the tower, and who knows what they want him for next. You being able to call Fawkes to Minerva's side may have also saved his and her life. Hagrid found Fawkes on the grounds after sunrise, newly dead without a mark on him, next to a molten piece of metal, and a pile of ashes of leather scraps, that we could only guess was the sword and sorting hat. He was inconsolable."

We stood in silence. Dumbledore looked from the castle, to the glow of the fire from the stadium and forest a myriad of emotions warring across his face and eyes.

"Too much has now changed, the moment you were sent back from will never happen. In saving me, you may have doomed yourself, Lory." I nodded mutely. "Someday, the wizarding world- all of you, will have to learn to go on without me. I can not be around forever." I started to interrupt him, but he spoke first. "Be at peace, I have said and accepted it."

The remaining hours passed slowly, Dumbledore and Fawkes seeing to the hurts of those arriving in the infirmary tent. Finally the students fighting to save the magical creatures flew in and landed I stepped off to the side as I watched myself dismount. I also saw the look of confusion that the Silver Arrow II was propped up beside the door. It was eerie watching Dumbledore talk to my other self and explain what happened. My other self shook her head with disbelief. Looked down at her hands and walked to the lake. I followed behind her at a discrete distance.

_I slipped my robe, shoes, and socks off and stepped into the quiet waters of the lake. It was fresh. It was cold. _

_It was clean. _

_I stood in the shallows and watched the mist over the water in the early morning light. The sun was just starting to creep over the horizon. It looked to be one of the rare beautiful spring mornings. I rinsed the soot and blood off my hands and face. _

_It had been a long night. _

_Those of us that were left were all waiting in silence._

_The mists began to lift, and the full extent of the damage began to make itself apparent. The forest was still smoldering, the stadium and other outbuildings were leveled, and the castle had been nearly destroyed, and there was a thick column of smoke rising from the direction of Hogsmeade._

_I turned away from the lake back towards our makeshift camp. The students I could see were all staring in numb shock at the castle. I felt anger rising. They were supposed to be safe and protected here. We took the chance that the death-eaters wouldn't attack their own children, and we were wrong. I suppose they were still safest here. We got most the remaining students out on the brooms, as the founders had originally planned._

_Then I saw an odd sight through the early morning sun. A figure of myself walking towards me. Dumbledore told me what had happened with the time turner, I guess this is just before where it all started. _

_She looked at me with eyes that were bloodshot and hands that were shaking. She stumbled and fell on the sand, collapsing in silent sobs and shaking with exhaustion. As I've often wished someone would do for me, I took her in my arms and rocked her tenderly. As the sun peeked over the horizon, she began to lose substance like the mists that were still burning away. I felt a flood of memories that were and were not my own flood into me. Although it would never happen, I would not forget that other future._

I splashed some more water on my face. I heard the sound of an owl making it's way towards me. I had an owl treat in my hand before it fully came into view. It was Hedwig, her snowy coloring easy to see in the morning light and gray soot that still filled the air. She settled herself on my gauntlet, drooping a little as if she understood what was happening. I had sent her for a Daily Prophet before the sun came up. I stilled myself before unfolding the paper, not knowing what I was going to find.

"Wizarding world in shock and rage at the destruction of Hogwarts." The main headline practically screamed out. The article below had been contributed by one of the journalists that have been embedded with us since the siege on the wizard world began.

I couldn't make myself read the rest, and carried Hedwig to the teachers to deliver the news to them.

We would rebuild.

And we will strike back.

And this time, we will not let Voldemort get away to come back a third time.


	21. Chapter 15, Spring 1997, Justice Finally...

_August Summer 1997- Four Months after Hogwarts fell_

"...And he called the dementors to him when he took the real death-eaters out in glory. They're out of Azkaban. The ministry guards and hit men are in chaos over there. Voldemort knows what I am, what I've been doing, I barely escaped with my life. But they were on their way to the Ministry."

We were in the new infirmary of Hogwarts- one of the first wings to be repaired. Snape made the last of his report. Madame Pomfry and Carly were still bandaging his many wounds. The death eaters had found a new torture curse one that shattered small bones into even smaller fragments. Every bone in his hands and feet needed removed and regrown.

How he managed to crawl to the fire in the house and perform the charm to allow him to speak through the flame to Dumbledore, I'll never know.

Voldemort had allowed his 'servant' to return, only to feed him false information. To get Snape maneuvered into a trap of his own. He'd been missing for over two months from a mission trying to find Harry. Many on Dumbledore's league feared Snape dead, or worse.

Then in the middle of the evening's war briefing, his head appeared in the flames begging for help. We were blocked from just pulling him through, but not from going to his side. Harold was able to apparate more then one person, and I went to provide cover fire. The grounds of Hogwarts weren't a safe place to leave him, so we'd be moving him as soon as he could travel.

November 1997 

He took the message from the waiting owl, reading it silently. Dumbledore made eye contact with me across the room. He nodded slightly, his eyes glinting not needing to say anything.

It was time.

The war was not going well for our side. The paranoia of Crouch and Fudge had put too many of our supporters into Azkaban and left them there to rot with the actual criminals. The new plan was to change that. I still couldn't believe I'd lived to see the day when we had a Head Minister more interested in justice then the implied power of the office.

Fudge had been displaced when his inaction allowed the Dark Lord to gain enough power and new followers to successfully destroy Hogwarts. All the ministry departments voted, and Dumbledore was offered the job of Head Minister in the interim while Hogwarts was being rebuilt. To nearly everyone's amazement, he turned it down but made recommendations for replacements.

A contemporary of Professor McGonnagals graduating class was chosen. She had been working diligently at the Ministry for many years, as the Vice Minister, assisting the various Head Ministers. One of the first tasks she undertook as head minister was a complete personnel review. While this was going on, she also ordered a total review of the interments of Azkaban. When she found out the large number of innocents, she ordered the retrials. Before the ink was dry on that edict, Voldermort had attacked the island and freed many of the real death-eaters, and turned the dementors loose.

I turned and nodded to Harold, Carly, and Amos Diggory. Who followed me quietly out of the room to where our packs were waiting; we'd been waiting for the orders to depart for a week.

I still had reservations about working with Amos. The death of his son seemed to have unbalanced him. He only came to work for Dumbledore when Harry Potter was taken, and from remarks he made it was on the insistence of his wife. I remember reading his file at the ministry; he was once a great auror and Dumbledore assigned him to my team.

We mounted the brooms, flying north as quickly as they would take us.

We finally reached Azkaban about 16 hours later. We had stopped once to change into our formal Ministry robes, winter cloaks, and put our badges and paperwork in order. We landed openly in the cold courtyard.

Hit-wizards ran out to meet us wands at the ready. I stepped forward away from my broom one pace and stood with my hands clasped formally in front of me. When the wizard was in easy speaking distance, I saluted him and handed our papers to him.

The papers were formal orders for us from the Head Minister to organize retrials for every prisoner living in Azkaban. Cell by cell, floor by floor. The trial evidence, if there was any, was stored in an archive room here at the prison. Other evidence from the Ministry hit-wizard, auror, and investigator archives would be brought as soon as we set up an office and trial room.

"I am Agent Lory Finnigan from the Ministry of Magic, I need to speak to the Wizards in charge here." I looked around at the ministry wizard-guards here. This job had a high turn around rate because of the Dementors. Apparently this shift hadn't been under their influence long before Voldemort's attack.

They seemed relatively wary and alert.

"That would be me, Agent Finnigan." A wizard half my age with red hair wearing formal work robes stepped forward. He carried himself the way I remember Crouch doing, straight backed, and formal, and that the world was to be looked down upon for it's lawlessness.

"I'm Warden Percy Weatherby, how may I assist you?" I remembered Percy from the last few years in the Ministry. He must have annoyed someone a lot to get shunted out here. But it was also a post that suited his nature, as he seemed relatively unaffected by the place.

He was still not using his family name. I often wonder how his father felt about that. His Mother being the more vocal of the two.

"These are our orders, sir. We are to objectively retry every criminal here, based on the all the evidence from the time they were captured. It has been brought to the Head Ministers attention that there are criminals that have been placed here without trial, and may be wrongfully imprisoned."

"For those that are, we are to release them immediately, and provide transport to the apparition point for port keys where they will be taken to a transition point for refitting by the ministry by way of apology." I handed him the scroll. He read it, looking for any flaws in what I had reported. He was scowling by the time he finished reading.

"Very well. Proceed minister. These guards will show you where some empty offices are available for you to use and we have created spaces in the barracks. We were advised of your orders in time to get places ready for you."

"Be aware, not all the dementors left with Voldemort, keep your wands on you at all times. Welcome to Azkaban."

With that he turned on his heal, and marched back into the building. The two guards he indicated relaxed marginally once Percy was out of sight. They indicated for us to follow them into the building. They led us down the main corridor to a side hallway where four offices were empty. Across the hallway was an easy access to the records archive, as well as a smaller trial room.

One thing that was agreed on by all of us was that these trials would be closed. Only immediate family of the accused would be present if they wished. One or two reporters with full ministry clearance, and the ministry historian would be on hand. Harold would be acting as judge, I would be standing as the attorney and Amos would be the prosecutor. Carly would be checking each prisoner over for medical problems including malnourishment. The ministry is over-stretched right now, or the team would have been larger.

After a brief tour, we retuned to our offices to start getting everything set up. After 20 years, we could finally find closure to these cases. Although Amos couldn't understand why, I was smiling when I finally transported my old filing cabinet and files to my new office.

When we weren't doing trials on the occupants, we were also to spend time in trials for the deceased for the sake of the effected families. It took awhile for the records transfer from the ministry to be completed. Carly agreed to share my office so we could set up one entire room for our own records.

We would start tomorrow.

"I call to trial Remus Lupin."

One dementor led him in then left the courtroom.

After the first three trials, we began to notice that the presence of the dementor was affecting everyone in the small room and we ordered it to leave before our judgements were affected. Lupin looked half starved, and had badly healed scratches and scars covering his face, neck, and hands. I've never seen him looking worse, even after being poisoned with veriteserum.

"What are the crimes that this man stands accused of?"

"Remis Lupin is accused of conspiring with the enemy, caught in the act of aiding and abetting a known wanted and dangerous criminal and of being a dark creature."

"How plead you, Remis Lupin." Lupin looked at Harold with disbelief. Whether it was at the question, or the use of his proper name, I was unsure. Harold repeated himself.

"Not-Guilty, your honor." Lupin finally replied. He sounded like he hadn't spoken in months. Many of the prisoners we'd tried already hadn't been able to speak due to permanent damage to their vocal cords from screaming. Each evening I would visit the ones who were to be put on trial the next day. There were three I'd found dead in their cells. We tried them anyway, two were found indisputably guilty for their crimes. One was innocent.

"What evidence have you to present for this case, defendant." He looked to me.

"Your honor, while we cannot dispute that he is in fact a werewolf, I can admit into evidence that he has never attacked anyone in his other form from the first year since he was bitten as a child. I enter into evidence his school records, statements from his parents, and a work reference from Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts school."

I had to take several deep breaths before continuing. Despite the seriousness of the situation, the look on Lupin's face was indescribable. It had also occurred to me that he didn't recognize me after being here for nearly two years.

"Your honor, the next charge- of aiding and abetting a known criminal, cannot be answered until the true guilt or innocence of that criminal has been ascertained. I would like to request a recess on this case until after Sirius Black had been brought to account."

"Prosecutor, do you concur."

"That would be the just and efficient thing to do." Amos responded stiffly. These past few weeks have had a profound effect on him as we have tried innocent person, after innocent person. He was convinced there would only be a few isolated cases, not the caseload we have found here.

"This case is in recess."

Lupin was escorted to the observer stands with the other criminals. Still looking utterly confused and flabbergasted at what had just occurred. He wasn't the first who had looked so incredulous, just the most obvious. I wondered if justice had been in that short of supply with these men and women for so long it was a source of cynicism for them.

I turned my attention to the door where two human guards brought in the files and evidence for the Black case.

"I posthumously call to trial Sirius Black." Then Lupin spoke up, his voice strong glaring at Harold.

"Why bother, minister. So you can prove to the world that you're not a complete group of doddering idiots?" Harold seemed taken aback by the show of defiance from Lupin. We all should have expected this from him at this point. Harold managed to respond calmly with a gesture at the guards to stand down.

"We are here to ascertain your guilt or innocence under fair and just proceedings according to the laws of wizardry that have been denied you and the other prisoners these past many years."

"A fair trial? From this ministry? Where are your spectators, your _honor? _Where are the wailing women? Where..." The sarcastic tirade was cut short from another voice from the audience.

"Where is your sense of self preservation? These people are trying to help us all, now shut up and let them proceed." Lupin stared down the stand while murmurs of agreement came from Mundingus Fletcher and the other prisoners sitting with him. Lupin startled sat down quickly enough I think his legs gave out beneath him.

"What are the crimes that Sirius stands accused of?"

"This man stands accused of being a death-eater and spy for Voldemort. The murder of 12 muggles, the murder of 1 wizard, practicing magic in view of muggles, escaping and evading justice, conspiring to murder a Hogwarts student, freeing a condemned hippogriff, aiding and abetting a dark creature, corruption of innocent minds, and resistance of arrest."

"How plead you in his stead defendant?"

"Not guilty on all counts, sir."

"What evidence do you have to present for this case?" He looked to me. Lupin looked at me confused.

"My first piece of evidence, to the charge of him being a death-eater. It has been made known to us that all initiated death-eaters are branded with a mark on the inside of their arms. Pictures taken at the time of autopsy shows Sirius bore no such mark." It took a team of experts on the curtained room to acquire these photos details how have never been explained to me.

"To the charge of abetting the enemy, I submit into evidence statements from Albus Dumbledore, detailing Sirius' every move and the missions he was on during those years preceding Voldemort's initial downfall for the Order of the Phoenix."

"Have you reviewed this evidence, prosecutor?"

"I have, your honor."

"Do you find it satisfactory."

"I do, your honor."

"On the charge of being a spy for Voldemort, this court finds him not guilty."

"Next charge, defendant."

"To the charge of the 13 murders, including the murder of Peter Petticrew- I present this audio interview from about three months after he was captured. I do affirm that it will be my own voice you hear questioning him. And that he was again under the influence of veriterserum when questioned." I placed the old black box on the table and tapped it with my wand to play the interview.

"Sirius Black, please state your side of what happened the day of the murders you stand accused of. Remember, you are committed to honesty in your own defense." I remember he looked at me like I was trying to trap him in some way. Like my interview with Lupin, I'd had to sign for special clearance to speak with him.

"When I learned of the Potters murder and that Hagrid was taking my Godson to live with his relatives, I went looking for Peter Pettigrew, the Potters secret-keeper."

"But it was known that you were the secret-keeper." I had made the statement a question.

"We switched at the last minute. Dumbledore had made us aware there was a traitor in the ranks. James and I hoped that by doing the switch, we could lure him or her out to me. We were unaware that Peter was the traitor until the Potters were murdered."

"Then what happened?"

"I went hunting for Peter. I was enraged. I found him in the heart of muggle London. He looked scared and horrified, but walked to the middle of the street. He yelled out "Lily and James, Sirius, how could you!" He cast a hex at me as I tried to ready my wand, I couldn't make it out but I started laughing uncontrolably. I heard him yell Avada kadavra. The street was blown apart. When I came to, still laughing, I was surrounded by hit wizards and Peter was gone."

"Gone, dead in the blast?"

"No, I think he's still out there."

"How could have he got away?"

"He was a rat." Sirius said definitively.

I turned off the interview tape.

"Prosecutor, what evidence do you have to present?"

"Here are the statements of the muggles, and what the hit-wizards found that day. By all accounts, Sirius was found guilty." Harold spoke quickly following Amos' remark, noticing Lupin about to go off on another rant.

"Defence, what evidence do you have to present?" Lupin was caught with his mouth open, as the looked again to me gaping like a fish.

"I first present these studies that what eye-witnesses see and remember are often distorted to fill gaps in memory details. These details are often what one expects to see, rather then what one did see. This is especially true when dealing with muggles facing magic. I enter into evidence a statement from the ministry expert on muggles, Aurther Weasley, that it is commonly known that muggles will go out of their way to convince themselves they didn't see anything out of their ordinary realm of experience."

"My second piece of evidence is that the blast did, indeed, hit a gas main to the city block. We can only speculate that this wasn't a coincidence. I enter into account, a diagram of the blasted area from that day." This had been saved in my personal file for all these years and was yellowing with age. "All the red dots are where we found the muggles. I was the ministry photographer at the scene and was the one who found the finger. Frank Longbottom was the wizard who corroborated that a finger found over 10 yards away near a sewer drain was a part of the scene and belonging to Peter Pettigrew. Your honor, I offer into comparison this photo evidence from the scene. The bodies we found close to the blast radius were all mangled. The finger we found near the sewer was clearly severed. Also I enter the experts statements from the time that the wound was self-inflicted."

"Lastly, I enter into evidence statements from Remus Lupin, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and Ronald Weasley that Peter Petticrew was seen alive and relatively well in the spring of 1994."

"This casts reasonable doubt that Peter was not murdered, but left the scene of his own free will during the confusion. Perhaps casting a shrinking charm on himself after severing his own finger."

"Have you reviewed this evidance, prosecuter?"

"I have, your honor."

"Do you find it satisfactory."

"I do, your honor. There is sufficient evidence that there is reasonable doubt Peter Pettigrew was murdered."

"Defence, what say you about the murder of the muggles?"

"I enter Sirius and Peters school records into account. Both students tested at the top of their class in terms of sheer Talent. But the focus of that talent varied widely. Peter was reported as being 'merely average' at charms, but excellent at muggle studies. Sirius was reported as 'dismal' at muggle studeies, but was a near champion duelist after he left Hogwarts. Peter was shown to have a facination with muggle building and groundwork, as well as wizarding plumbing. In fact, this was the topic of a final project for his advanced muggle studies class at Hogwarts. The Avada Kadavra curse is a curse of both power and intent. And both the wizards on the scene had both. However, if can be assumed that Peter had the opportunity of first strike."

"Can you explain further?"

"Profile. If we use the premise that Peter Pettigrew was indeed guiltly, Peter knew when it was found out the Potters were dead, everyone was going to assume that Sirius was the traitor, except for Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. He also knew with that high of a profile murder, the Ministry Hit-wizards would be out in force looking for friends of the Potters and questioning them under truth serum. He knew he had little time to escape his former friends and the ministry. One easy way for a wizard to escape the wizards is in the muggle part of London where most wizards will stand out like a sore-thumb and seek transportation from there."

"Based on the evidence at hand, Peter knew enough about muggles to blend in. Sirius did not. Muggles would see Sirius as the crazier of the two, hence more likely to be the one committing a crime. Peter knew about muggle sewers and what a gas line was, and where they were placed. He knew it would create an explosion large enough to cover any tracks he made leaving the scene. Peter also knew he would have to strike first and fast to keep Sirius occupied, and used a pre-OWL level cheering charm before the laughing hex, then used Avada on the street. I also submit documentation that what always prevented Sirius from being a full champion duelist at the time was a weakness in fast-casting. Finally, the muggle accounts show that less then a few minutes had passed between the time he arrived on the scene and the explosion."

"Based on these facts, I believe we have a reasonable doubt that Sirius was not the Wizard who blew the street apart. Nor did he cast magic in front of the muggles. He didn't have a chance."

"Have you reviewed this evidence, prosecutor?"

"I have, your honor."

"Do you find it satisfactory?" There was a long pause, while Amos looked at the photos in his hands, the diagrams, and then at me.

"Prosecutor, do you find it satisfactory?"

"I do, your honor. There is enough evidence to provide for reasonable doubt that Sirius black committed the crime for which he was imprisoned. I also find no evidence that they tested his wand before they snapped it to discover the last spell cast."

"On the charges of being a murder of 13 counts, this court finds Sirius Black not guilty." Lupin had been looking stunned throughout my recitation. But now he slumped forward with relief realizing what was to come next.

"And on the charge of conspiring to murder a Hogwarts student?"

"We have statements from Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Severus Snape, and Remus Lupin that he stated of his own free will he was after Peter Pettigrew. At the time this happened, Peter was not a Hogwarts student. I recommend that this charge be dropped."

"Have you reviewed this evidence, prosecutor?"

"I have, your honor."

"Do you find it dropping this charge satisfactory?"

"I do your honor."

"And the charge of freeing the condemned hippogriff."

"We have a full eye-witness statement from Albus Dumbledore, that he saw Harry Potter free the hippogriff acting on his own conscience. This hippogriff was scheduled for wrongful execution by the disposal of magical creatures. Harry Potter then flew the Hippogriff to the window where Sirius was being held to save his Godfathers life. The hippogriff was cleared of suspicion last week."

"Have you reviewed this evidence, prosecutor?"

"I have, your honor."

"Do you find it dropping this charge satisfactory?"

"I do your honor. And in the interests of finishing up these proceedings and breaking for lunch, the prosecution drops all charges for escaping and evasion, and resisting arrest. I also concurrently move to drop all charges against Remus Lupin as he wasn't aiding a criminal; he was aiding a man known to be one of his best friends. While he is a werewolf, he has spent many years in service to Albus Dumbledore, has worked to minimize the threat he is to others during the full moon, and by all reports was one of the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers at Hogwarts seen in nearly 25 years."

"Defense, do you agree?"

"In the interest of justice and finding lunch, I do agree."

"Remis Lupin, please rise." He stood.

"Sir, this court finds you not-guilty of the crimes for which you were imprisoned. By the power vested in me, I release you now from Azkaban. The Daily Profit reporter will present an article with the evidence of yours, and Sirius Black's innocence, as well a full public and formal apology from the ministry for the years stolen from you. Before you are transported off the island, your belongings that were stripped from you will be returned. In the event your wand was snapped upon capture, you will receive a certificate of purchase for a new wand from Olivanders. You are to be escorted to transportation to the Ministy where you will receive a stipend, a full re-outfitting, as well as a letter of reference of your innocence so you might find work in the field of your choosing."

"Do you feel that justice has been found and won on this day?"

"I do, your honor, thank you."

"This session is adjurned. You can all relax now, the worst is over." Amos and I shook hands, I watched Remus walk over to me rather then following the guard out of the courtroom to his belongings and transportation.

"Is there some way I can help you further?" I asked when he came into an easy talking distance.

"Minister Finnigan, have you found him yet?"

"Peter? No. He's still at large."

"No, Harry Potter. I saw dementors leading him in during the attack. Have you found him yet?"

"Harry Potter is here? At Azkaban?" I motioned for Harold, Carly, and Percy to come over and had Lupin repeat what he just said.

"We need an all points search of every cell in this prison, especially the ones with Dementors still outside the doors. Harry Potter may still be here." Warden Weasley ordered a guard to get diagrams of the entire prison, and ordered all the off-duty guard staff to meet us at the large trial room.

I led Remus to the storage room and his box of belongings. I tossed his wand at him and he continued to follow in my wake to the large trial room.

Harry Potter was found on the third day of the search. The guards brought him immediately to the infirmary and Carly. His vocal cords and windpipe were severely damaged from screaming and he had nearly starved to death. As soon as he was stable enough to move, we decided to take him to my island as a safe place to recover from the ordeal.


	22. Chapter 16, New time of recovary

Harry sat on the bank of the lake, his thin legs tucked up to his chin, slowly rocking while he sunned himself. He was still very easily startled, I tried to make little noises while I approached him carrying the tray with his lunch on it. As I got closer, he turned to look at me- first fearfully, then with recognition in his eyes. No one his age, with his background had ever been left with the dementors as long as he had after those types of ordeals for we still don't know how long.

We'd moved him here rather then mungo's, hoping that between the anti-seeking charm on him and the land being unplottable, that he would at least be safer here and isolated enough to help him rebalance.

Remus Lupin had agreed to stay in one of my guest-houses with him and keep an eye on things here. I think this was best for his recovery as well, although I think it's been causing Snape some consternation since he was also still here recovering. I'm not sure Dumbledore was thinking clearly when he put this lot in a confined space at the same time, but they seem to be getting along okay (for a change) with each other and the other refugees hidden here.

I placed the tray beside Harry and sat down. I looked over the lake towards the mainland. The day was relatively clear and we could just make out the ruins at Glochestershire through the ever-present mists.

"Are you enjoying your stay here Harry?" I speak quietly, trying to keep my voice in a soothing tone as I was instructed. He looked at me and nodded, a slight smile forming at the corners of his mouth, a smile that didn't truly reach through the sorrow in his eyes. But this at least was a good sign of improvement. The first few weeks he was here he just kept staring ahead from what the house-elves and Lupin told me. After surgery Carly put a silencing charm on him, to give his vocal cords and windpipe a chance to heal fully. He still hasn't been able to speak all this time, except when he cried out during his sleep.

"Did you know this is my place?" He looked mildly interested. He'd been wandering and exploring the grounds and miniature forest that I'd bought and added to almost ten years ago. On one of my previous visits, I found that one of the Wild Kneezel's on the island had taken an interest in him and Hedwig had made a home for herself in my owlry tower.

"I bought this island from a retired wizard broom and wand tree-farmer. He wanted to move back to the mainland, and be closer to his family. Over the years, I've made many additions to the house and outbuildings, added my workshops, flight arena, and such. His old clients became my new clients, so the place is prospering. This forest is my retreat from the world. It is also one of the hidden sanctuaries of wild snidgets, the little yellow birds you see fluttering around. If you look real closely you'll also see bowtruckles among the magical creatures here."

"This land overlooks one of the oldest centers of the entire wizard world. It is said that the Merlin himself walked these shores over a thousand years ago. I hope you'll be comfortable here as long as you care to stay." I stood up to leave him to his lunch.

"By the way, if you're ever looking for something to occupy your hands, feel free to go work in the broom barn. If I remember, you enjoyed my classes on broom restoration- and there are plenty of brooms that need trimmed and polished. I'm usually out there when I'm home, so just tap on the door and I'll show you where everything is to get you started." I dusted myself off and walked away without looking back.

When I reached the house, everyone else was already in the dining room enjoying the meal the house-elves had prepared for us. When I first moved here, two of the elves that had worked for the previous wizard opted to say on with me. I was actually rather relieved about this. Being away from the place so often, I wasn't sure how I'd keep it up.

When they found out my plans for the place, they asked me to bring in two of their friends as gardeners and tree-tenders after they had been recently released from another position. Throughout the recent wars, I've noticed a slow increase in the house-elf population on my island. I'm guessing many elves are being displaced and finding there way here.

"So how's he really doing?"

I ask bluntly. Remus, and I were having tea in the keep solar. Snape had declined, saying he wanted to get back to his experiments. The old owner had a cellar he had turned into a miniture potions lab. I had added to it over the years and kept the supplies up. Snape claimed it as his sanctuary immediately.

"Improving. Slowly, but improving." Remus answered after silently staring out the window in the direction Harry had walked. "He's more able to care for himself now, and he's starting to gain back the weight he's lost. But he still isn't able to talk, and he's prone to tune out people out and just go- elsewhere."

"I miss my student." Lupin said sounding frustrated. "The one that flew a Hippogriff to a window to save Sirius... I just miss the life and mischief in his eyes. He won't even see Ron, Ginny, or Hermione. They come to visit, and he just makes himself scarce. I'm afraid we're losing him to the madness." He beat his hand against the chair.

"Carly tells me he'll start talking when he's ready after that charm is removed. He's avoiding people because he doesn't WANT to talk yet. She'll be back out to check on him next Tuesday. We all know it's going to take more time then this."

The look on his face said clearly that he knew, but didn't have to like it.

I went out to the barn but I was a little too restless to start working on the new shipment. The sun and breeze was calling through the open door. I grabbed my Silver Arrow I, and flew out the door to the arena behind the work-shed. As I was flying threw the drills I learned as a chaser, I noticed Harry sitting on one of the benches near the field watching me almost wistfully. I fly down near him hovering a few feet above the ground.

"You want to try a few laps?" He nodded, almost eagerly. "Give me a sec."

I fly to the barn and grab my old Silver Arrow II. I'm the one who's startled this time as I turn around and find him already behind me.

"I was just grabbing a broom for you, unless you'd rather choose one for yourself..." I let the question hang in the air as he contemplated my selection of racing brooms by the door. Not too surprising to me, he chose a Nimbus 2000 for himself over the Firebolt. I smile as I re-rack the Silver Arrow. On a whim, I grabbed a golden snitch from its holder before taking back to the air myself.

Harry had grown into a beautiful flyer. I'd have no trouble recommending him for tryouts in the Quidditch league if, _when_ he recovers. He effortlessly rode the currents, even doing some of the various common seeker exercises. I watched him dive, skim the ground, and rise into the air again. It occurred to me that this was the first time he'd been in the air since he was taken from Hogwarts.

I called out his name and released the golden snitch in my hand. The charm on it wouldn't allow it to leave the pitch area. I returned to the circular obstacle course that lapped the Quidditch pitch. Finally after another three rounds, I felt settled enough to work indoors. Harry was still playing catch and release on the pitch, and I left him to it after setting the various safety charms on the pitch to active mode.

I replaced the broom on its rack and made sure the quidditch ball chest was near the Nimbus' rack and went to the workshop area. My next shipment of racing brooms was almost ready, and I took a moment to scrutinize my work. Satisfied that the charms were settling in properly, I went to work on the two remaining brooms. I put on my dust mask as a matter of habit, along with my safety goggles.

Contemplating the Cleansweep7 propped up on the bench I picked up the sander/polisher and went to work on the handle. The anti-mold / fungal I'd painted on the wood had taken care of the slight mold spots that storage neglect had caused. The sanding would remove the thin layer of damage before it spread. I took a mark of pride that I didn't just use spells and charms on these simple things.

When I was done with the sanding, I removed the goggles and painted the handle over with a stain sealant to help bring out its original color. While it dried, I took off the mask as I went to the pile of birch and holly twigs that my house-elves kept stocked for me to choose to fill out the new brush tip. Rather then leave the brush end open I tapered them down into a fine point. As the Nimbus creators found out, this helped increase the airflow around the broom.

I had already cleared out the over-damaged and splintered twigs from the old brush end, and went to work trimming, weaving, and shaping the new brush. This was very precise and meticulous work that even when it went smoothly, could take hours. I preferred to do this when I could work start to finish on it. Occasionally I would use a bit of magic from my hands to make the twigs more flexible for a moment or two. I was so absorbed in my work that I didn't notice I was being watched until I was nearly finished.

I met Harry's eyes and smiled at him, and motioned with my head for him to come look closer if he wanted. He silently sat on the bench beside me, watching with apparent fascination at the process. I set in the final few twigs, satisfied from long practice that the brush was as full and long as it needed to be for a Cleansweep.

The sealant on the handle was dry and ready for the new brush end to be attached. I slid the brush on to the handle, clamping it in place. Drawing my wand, I did a quick check on the charms for waterproofing and flying and found them sound. I added an enhanced charm for wind resistance, and a broad based anti-hexing spell. Finally, it was time for my personal final touch.

I walked over to the display of Cleansweeps, opened the case and taped my wand once on the fully restored and functional Cleensweep7. Walking back to the bench, I taped my wand twice on the broom on the workbench, and the final coat of finish paint appeared, along with a full copy of the original Cleensweep logo, and my personal seal of restoration. I heard a small gasp from Harry.

I turned and smiled at him as I released the clamps. I pointed the wand at the broom and cast _up_.The broom rose crisply into the air. I waved it towards the still open door, and out into the late afternoon sunlight. With no noticeable drag, the broom flew out to the arena.

"Remember what I said in class, that a well cared for older broom with a few modifications can fly as well if not better then a new broom?" I said at last to Harry, breaking our silence. He nodded, looking curious. I motioned for him to follow me outside. I could see the broom was flying easily under no weight, I cast the weight bearing check on it starting at 200lbs, and continued to watch.

"Most of the brooms I sell out of Diagon Alley end up as students brooms at Hogwarts. Even for the students that aren't quidditch players, they usually prefer the lighter and faster racing brooms. I'll get the occasional special order, like the broom I modified for Hagrid, but that's not the norm. The students want that." I pointed at the broom flying quickly through the obstacle course with little direction from me.

"A good racing broom does most of the work of flying for you, sometimes too much by my way of thinking. That's another reason whenever I'm working with quidditch players at Hogwarts, I put them on the most rundown brooms that Hogwarts has to offer. To be sure they're flying technique is the student's not the broom's." Harry nodded. He was one that I had to correct for sloppy technique, but did notice a marked improvement in his flying when I finally let him back on his Firebolt for quidditch practice.

"The Nimbus 2000, and the Firebolt series are good brooms for you, Harry. They give you a high level of control without sacrificing much in the way of maneuverability. The Cleansweeps are a sturdier broom overall, and will take crashes and hits that many of the other racing brooms simply can't. Which is why I recommend them for anyone learning to be a beater." I manurvered the broom on the field to the exact center and sent it into a Wronski feint. Instead of pulling it out of the dive, I let it crash directly and hard into the ground. I thought Harry was going to have a litter of kittens from the look on his face. The broom returned jauntily over to where we were standing. Both Harry and I checked it over for damage.

There wasn't a scratch or bent twig on the entire broom.

"Have you ever flown a Cleansweep?" He shook his head. "Well, this one could use a test flight from an experienced flyer. You want to try?" He looked at me dubiously. I was very encouraged by this. He was practically having a conversation without saying a word to me.

Rather then pressing him about the broom, I got on it myself and took a speed lap around the arena. When I flew back to him, he looked impressed. I jumped off the broom.

"Would you like to try it now?" This time he nodded with surety. "Go ahead and really put it thorough it's paces. Try some of those seeker exercises you were doing earlier, try out the obstacle course, that sort of thing. It would be really helpful."

I watched him take off on the broom with a look of determination on his face.

Smiling to myself, I went back into the barn. And found Severus was watching in the shadows by the door.

"There's an owl from the Ministry for you. It's urgent."

I can't help but sigh in exasperation.

"Isn't it always?"

****

****Fine for now


	23. Chapter 17, duel in words

September 1997 – A Duel in Words 

"You coddle the boy. Care to go another round?"

I hadn't even known Severus was watching the dueling lesson with Neville from the balcony. I finally got Neville a wand of his own after finding out his Grandmother gave him his mother's wand to replace his fathers. With each spell he cast successfully, his confidence grew. We were doing a full review of everything he's learned at school as well as from Harry in the D.A. He was taking my critiques well and he was finally up to mastering all his 5th year spells, we're hoping to move on to 6th year spells next week.

I motioned for Severus to join me on the floor. Grabbing a quick drink from the water tap in the arena, I splashed some water on my face and the back of my neck to cool down a bit.

"Tournament rules or circle duel?" I asked facing the stairs from the balcony.

"Circle is fine." The acoustics of the room were such that his answer sounded right next to me.

The dueling practice room was once a large tool shed attached to the main barn. I moved all the tools to a new shed and turned this room into a dueling practice area. I paneled and charmed all the wood to absorb wayward spells so it was the safest place to practice. The balcony was a catwalk with roof access that I left in place and added skylights to allow natural light into the room. There was an upper balcony near the skylights the previous owner used as a place to watch the stars on cold nights.

A circle duel differs from a regular duel in that the opponents move around a lot more while dueling. Snape was still in his working robes which wouldn't hinder his movements much.

We saluted, bowed, and moved into ready position.

"You were saying, Severus?"

"You're coddling him. He needs to learn faster."

"He needs to _learn _and he needs to feel safe here. Not be intimidated right now." He challenged, so I cast first. I sent a weak ball of light as a feint, and a stunning blast at ½ strength. Both he deflected easily. The duel had begun.

"The dark servants _will _intimidate him." I absorbed his next spell, a feint.

"Will do their best to scare him to inaction." I deflected a blast of energy.

"Just before they kill him." I had to roll out of the way of the last blast, I was back on my feet and in dueling position in two breaths.

"How do you propose to train the reflexes into him, into any of them?" Sent a crossfire volley of flamelitts at him. Which he countered without almost thinking about it.

"I've said it before- you are dropping him into a deep lake to see if he can learn to swim." I sent a wall of air to buffet him and to create static for the next spell.

"Sometimes you have to teach them to swim first, so they don't become so afraid of the water they drown." The lightning I called sparked at him, singing his robes.

"He fears me because I'm a former death-eater!" He took advantage of the remaining static and cast lightning back at me, which I grounded just in time to deflect the water coming at me.

"He should be afraid of me, of them!"

"Potter fears fear. Neville fears failure." My words stunned him a split second before my spell did knocking him back a few paces.

"As you said with Lockhart the night of the dueling club, 'Maybe you should teach them to BLOCK unfriendly spells first.'" I sent a wall of force that carried him into the wall. "Have you ever bothered to show either of them how to block before attacking and hoping they'll figure it out on their own?" My next spell he dodged out of the way.

"Leave Potter out of this." He snarled as a highly focused spell beam hit my arm. I looked where the spell impacted; I was bleeding. First blood has been drawn. I raised an eyebrow and moved back into ready position.

"What does your boggart look like, Severus?" My spell threw him back into the wall. I already knew the answer to that. It looked like the faces of all the unprepared children that ever faced him as a death eater. Looking at him in fear. As much as Neville feared Snape- Severus feared Neville.

His next spell threw me to the floor. I fast-cast disarming and leg-locker at him to buy time to get to my feet as he un-hexed himself.

"So you're teaching him to play nice with the death eaters?" He sent a curse at me, which I countered.

"I'm teaching him the spells he needs to know in such a way that he'll actually be able to perform them at need." I sent a volley of blue steel-light lances at him.

"With trained reflexes," The second volley he blocked too easily.

"The way WE learned." I sent a blinding flash of light to enable me to get around to his unguarded left side and cast a partial-paralysis curse. He cast the counter hex on himself.

"This is the way I learned." Knife spell – I countered.

"The way my family taught me." A force hit me to the ground. "The way the dark servants taught me." The words caught me off guard. Another knife spell made a shallow cut. The interesting things about the knife spells Severus was showing off his control of them by only making shallow wounds in non-vital areas.

"Neville has to learn to face what fears him. Potter has to learn to face death. If I am worse then anyone they have to face then they will be ready." I countered the spell coming at me, and reflected the next back to him while rolling back to my feet.

"Severus, you're not worse, you just can't leave your personal issues at the door." My knife spell connected with him that time.

"Because they fear me anyway!" A blast of energy missed me. "We've both seen too many of our own killed in all this. Do you want to add two more children to the toll? They have to be ready and no nanny-pandering is going to do it!" I again reflected his force back to him setting him off guard.

"I am not coddling" My next spell flew him through the air.

"Cosseting" He was caught in the air by my full force levitation. "Or even cajoling Neville. I would never put him at the disadvantage you gave the Slytheryn students." I conjured a net to fall and entangle him bringing him to the ground. He recovered his composure quickly after destroying the net.

"The end justifies the means." He successfully disarmed me. I summoned my wand back to my hand with my wyrd before it hit the ground and disarmed him. He rolled after the wand and came back to position.

"I concede the floor. The duel is yours. I keep forgetting your inborn talent to move things." He caught his breath. "Yes, I agree, Neville is improving. So if you think you can do any better with Potter, you're welcome to try."

I salute and bow to acknowledge the victory of the duel and the argument.

We both limp our way to the benches.

I lean back stretching glancing up at the skylights and catwalk and saw them. And by the stunned looks on their faces, Neville, Harry, and Lupin looked like they had seen and heard the whole thing.

Severus heard my sharp intake of breath and looked to see what I was looking at and gave me a 'now-what' kind of look.

It was Lupin who broke the awkward silence.

"Is this how you two always work out your differences- or do you just like trying to nearly kill each other?"


	24. Chapter 17, pt 2, Beginning of the end

"...Isn't it always." How could I have thought such a thing.

I waited at platform 9 ¾ for Neville and Professor McGonnagal's portkey.

They appeared in muggle clothes holding one of Dumbledore's books. Neville was wearing his usual baggy jeans and Hogwarts sweater, Minerva still every inch the professor in a distinguished tailored skirt and jacket set. When I got the message, in my hurry to get out of the keep I instinctively grabbed the ministry-muggle-uniform. A set of clothing we are required to have updated every year. This year I had the choice of a long pants suit, low heals, with loose jacket. The color and accessories that went with it would identify my department and rank to anyone who knew our clothing conventions. Minerva took the outfit in with a glance.

"Thanks for travelling with him, Professor. I appreciate it. Neville, are you sure you want to do this?"

"I need to see, I need it to be real." He said very quietly. I gave him a quick hug. Almost 17 he'd finally grown into his overlarge hands and feet and he was growing out of the awkwardness of adolescence, becoming more comfortable in his own skin.

We stepped onto the main platform of Kings Cross Station and out into Muggle London. We caught a taxi to a point near St. Mungo's.

The medi-witch at the front desk asked our business. Professor McGonnagal spoke for Neville, as his head of house.

"We're here to identify and claim the remains of the Longbottom family."

I heard Neville's sharp intake of breath. I placed my hand briefly on his shoulder. He squeezed my hand back to let me know he was ok for now.

An orderly led us to an office off the main floor, probably one of the administrators. We didn't have to wait long in the comfortable chairs. An elderly gentleman came in and sat behind the mahogany behemoth of a desk that took up half the room.

"Mr. Longbottom, as Vice President of Mungo's we wanted to extend our most sincere regrets for the incident that occurred here last week. Of course restitution will be made to your parents estate. As you're still a minor and sole heir, who will be handling that estate for now?"

"That would be me. I was appointed Neville's legal guardian. Neville and I have spoken about this- he would like me to take care of the paperwork while he pays his last respects." Neville nodded, clearly not trusting his voice. Minerva looked pretty close to tears herself. Aside from the anger boiling inside me, I just felt numb.

"Of course." The administrator stood. "Miss Finnagan, if you will wait here I'll find one of the staff to escort these two." They left the office he returned quickly.

The restitution we worked out worked out to cover the most remaining outstanding balance and charges for the extended care here. I took care of the rest of the balance from Neville's account, and began the process of filling out the paperwork to adopt Neville who this would be best, so any further legal inquiries would come to me rather then the school. Overall, he was taking the death of his parents better then I was.

"Sir, I do have one final question. How did this happen?"

"I see you're a ministry official so I can tell you. Death eaters staged a raid here and targeted all the patients, short and long term that ever worked for or with Dumbledore, including Gilderoy Lockhart, Delorus Umbridge, and the others. How they got those records only indicates someone on the inside here betrayed that information. It was just unfortunate that Mrs. Longbottom was visiting at the time of the raid."

"I see." I also now knew who at the ministry would be assigned to the case and could ask around the office for more details. After a few more pleasantries were exchanged I went to the regular quiet waiting area.

I didn't need to see them to make it real. I could see the spell scorch marks that hadn't been completely painted over. I could see the scared look in the eyes of those waiting, and the much quieter atmosphere.

I noticed the discolored squares that were once paintings.

I willed my mind to be blank and focused on sitting still. Every fiber of my being wanted to run from this place. After spending 2 months in recovery here all those years ago before I started at Hogwarts, I've had my fill of being here. I clenched my hands to stop them from shaking. I have to be strong for Neville.

I go through the plan of what is happening next. Dumbledore, Snape, and Lupin are shifting many of Neville's belongings to my house and sealing his grandmother's place before the security charms begin to fade from it. Neville and Harry both have another a month and a half before starting school. Hogwarts has building crews has been working day and night to raise the castle, classrooms, dormitories, and out buildings including the Quidditch stadium from the rubble, but school will still have a delayed start this year beginning in October. Lesson plans have been rewritten to accommodate the near 6-month down time.


	25. Chapter 18, Final Battle

It was still hard to get around the new castle.

Built from the old plans, raised from the rubble- most of the secret passages and probably a few new ones were the same. Many thought it was daft to build on the spot where it was known the castle was. But others took it as a sign of the future hopes and dreams of the Brittiana Wizarding World when the tall Ravenclaw Aerie Tower and the tallest Astronomy tower were magically lifted and sealed back into place.

A permanent memorial was placed in the main hall to honor the students and faculty who died in the massacre. For a change I ran by it without a second glance. Still being among the youngest faculty members, I quickly outstripped the rest at a full sprint all the while really wishing for a broom.

I began taking the winding stairs more then 2 at a time hoping I wouldn't land in one of the trick stairs at the speed I was going.

Voldemort and his followers had successfully invaded the castle again.

I saw one of the ghosts floating down through the stairs. "Sir Nicholas! Have you found them?"

"Room of Requirement."

I put on a fresh burst of speed. Was there a D.A. meeting tonight? I couldn't remember what Neville had told me. How did Voldemort get into the castle- help from the inside? Maybe a student?

I was nearly out of breath when I reached the out of the way corridor.

The door was no where to be seen, but I could faintly hear the sounds of screams and spells on the other side of the wall.

Room of requirement? What I required was an entrance and the room to provide us with what we needed to defeat Voldemort permanently. I paced my required 3 circuits thinking all the while "Griffendor- you made the room, now your heirs defend it. Help them!" Finally the door appeared. I pulled it open quickly enough to see the room dissolve from the D.A.. classroom, to resemble a dark stone room at the ministry with the stone arch with its concealing and ever-floating curtains.

Harry, Neville, Seamus, Ron, Hermione and the rest of the D.A.. were fighting a losing battle for their lives against 15 death eaters and Voldemort. The room seemed huge, more then big enough to accommodate the numbers. There was a brief stunned pause as the environment changed.

Harry was the first to look and see the door was open. I heard him order Hermione and Ron to start getting the students out. Several refused to leave, including Neville. There were also several down on the floor, I was unsure who they were, but by the look of the way they fell- they wouldn't be getting back up again.

Time seemed to move into slow motion.

I provided cover fire for the students making for the exit hoping the other teachers would help get them to the grounds safely. Neville was holding his own against Bellatrix and Harry was once again facing Voldemort yelling at his friends to leave the entire time.

Voldemort was laughing in that odd high-pitched way of his. I began to think that this was only a set back. That he'd set us up. Then I heard the voices from the curtains; the voices hungering for revenge on the one who sent many of them beyond before their time.

Potter must have heard them as well, and he started to steer Voldemort towards the opening.

I saw Bellatrix fall clutching at her knee in pain. I'm not sure what Neville did, but there was a lot of blood.

"AVADA KADAVRA!!!" Potters deep voice boomed across the dungeon above the rest of the noise.

A green light shot out of his wand straight at Voldemort.

Nothing happened. Silence once again filled the room.

Then Voldemort started laughing. And pointed his wand at Harry.

"Let me show you how it's done, boy. First you have to really WANT to hurt your opponent."

"Crucio!" Harry doubled over as the red light hit him. He tried to raise his wand to protect himself, but a death eater kicked it away. We finally got the students who would leave out the door the last one wedged the door open.

What was taking the faculty so long to get here!

Sir Nicholas found me again as if answering my unspoken thought- "Ambush, stairs moved and destroyed, having to invent a new route. Will be here soon!"

"Crucio!" Harry hit the floor clutching his abdomen blood forming at the side of his mouth. I knew I could never cross the room in time, but I began to duel my way through the wall of death eaters to try.

"Crucio!" Another Death eater blocked my way, a strong silver hand reached out from the robe and grabbed my by my neck. As the air slowly began to run out, my thoughts and eyes were still on Harry. Very few have felt the full force of that spell from "the master" and lived to tell about it. Death would seem preferable and kind at this point.

"Accio Wand" I heard Ron's clear tenor voice and saw Harry's wand fly through the air to Ron who then sent it flying back to Harry. Harry picked up the wand, and forced himself to stand and try to cast another spell.

"Avada Kadavara!" Potter managed to get the spell out- a bright green light flew out of his wand staggering Voldemort back a few steps before he fully regained his footing he began to cast at Harry again.

"Cruci---"

"NOOO!!!" And a body flew threw the air at Voldemort knocking him even closer to the opening in the wall. Momentum carrying Voldemort and his assailant to the opening, tripping on the dais, and turning in such a way that I could see that the attacker was Neville. It was getting hot, harder to breathe. My neck and shoulders hurt from the pressure being exerted.

"Expecto Patronum!" A stag burst out of Harry's wand and what Neville started, Prongs finished.

Voldemort was beyond the veil.

The silver hand clutching my neck suddenly vanished and was replaced by a cauterized stump. I fell to the floor hard on one shoulder, and took gasping breaths rubbing my throat.

"Patrificus Totalius!" A feminine voice said from behind us. The death-eaters body went fully rigid from Hermione's spell.

We were closest to the door, where we staggered to keep the rest of the death eaters present from escaping. I was having a difficult time breathing, didn't feel like I was getting enough air, but this wasn't the time for injuries. Several had surrendered by throwing their wands to the floor others were trying to push past us to escape. This was when the remainder of the faculty finally caught up with us.

Hermione took the mask off of the death-eater she froze, revealing a rather starved and terrified Peter Petticrew. My final mystery solved, I tried to take a deep breath, and felt myself fall backwards against the doorframe. And I saw no more.


	26. Chapter 19, Epilogue

And I saw no more.

Awareness came back in waves.

I found myself in the infirmary along with many of the students. Neville looked like he hadn't moved from my side in a few...

How long had I been here? I tried to sit up, found I couldn't. And that my left arm was strapped to my side.

Neville was awake instantly, and tried to prevent me from sitting up. "Foster mom, you must lay still. I'll go get Madame Pomphry." His voice held heavy concern.

I heard quiet voices on the other side of the curtain. I tried to piece back what had happened. One thing I did remember, was Lord Voldemort, Tom Marvolo Riddle was gone.

Madame Pomphry returned with Albus Dumbledore.

He sat in the chair Neville recently occupied while Poppy gave me a once over and some more potions.

"No stunt flying for me for a while- eh?" Was all I could manage to croak out around the pain in my throat.

"Shh-hh." Poppy pressed her fingers to my list. "You have a crushed windpipe, a broken collar bone, and a dislocated shoulder. Keep talking and I'll have Carly put one of her silencing spells on you!" I waved my hands in mock defeat and looked at Dumbledore.

"I wanted to say thank you for protecting the students the way you did. There must be some Gryffendor in you to run into danger that way." His eyes twinkled over his glasses. "Neville and Ron told us that the room changed just as you came in, that there wasn't supposed to be a door anymore. It would take a true Ravenclaw to think of having the 'room of requirement' to provide the way to destroy Voldemort. Very Clever move, Miss Finnagan. Very Cleaver indeed." I rolled my eyes as my response.

"Students okay?" I whispered. Wincing as Poppy changed the bandages on my dislocated shoulder.

At this Dumbledore looked sorrowful and shook his head no. He went on to tell me that that beside the several killed in the room, another dozen were lost when the stairway collapsed. Including my oldest nephew, Seamus Finnagan. Maybe it was the medication, or the sheer exhaustion, but I started weeping quietly so not to disturb the other patients. He placed his hand on my shoulder until I quieted a few minutes later.

Poppy helped fit my arm to a sling and said it was okay for me to leave the infirmary as long as I took my potions and took it slow the first few days out. She also ordered me to the Great Hall to get some food, as it had been more then 3 days since I'd properly eaten.

Neville helped me through the castle and up to the head table where the other teachers were eating.

I sat down heavily in my accustomed seat between Professor Snape and the empty chair where Professor Lupin usually sat. Professor Sprout explained Lupin would be helping Harry to the hall and should arrive shortly. The hall was decorated with all the House banners above their tables, except for the black banner still hanging behind the faculty.

"So what do you want to do now, Professor Finnagan?"

"Retire to my teaching, coaching, and expanding my broom restoration business." I said quietly.

"So, nothing's really going to change?"

"Are you kidding- no more ministry owl's at all hours or long ministry meetings. That's a HUGE change for me after nearly 20 years." I grinned mischievously.

When Harry arrived amidst scattered applause, his hair was messier then usual- completely hiding his forehead. He sat down next to Ron and Hermione where Neville joined him. They soundly clapped him on the back.

The house elves kept a steady stream of appetizers at all the tables. I learned that we were waiting for everyone to be released from the hospital before the feast began. More chairs were set up at the head table, and finally 2 more tables were added to the dais- expanding the table to an 'I' shape. We were hosting all the various department heads, the Order of the Phoenix, and other officials of the Ministry of Magic.

Finally everyone arrived, and the remaining faculty and ministers processed in, Dumbledore last of all.

The Head Minister stood up as the applause died out.

"We are hear to honor those who have fallen, and acknowledge those who helped bring about this astounding event. Please hold your applause to the end."

"First, Order of Avalon, second class – to the Faculty and Staff of Hogwarts School. You trained your students well to think and defend themselves. You also provided safe-haven for the students during the war. This is the second highest award the Ministry can grant to a group of people."

"Second, Order of Avalon, second class – to the Defense Association, also known as Dumbledore's Army. For your unswerving defense of the school and all the students therein. Hermione Granger was kind enough to loan us the roster of the group from these past 3 years, so each student is recognized, as well as the years they participated. She also asked that the names of the members who departed in the line of duty, be plated in gold rather then silver."

"Third, Order of Avalon, first class – to the Order of the Phoenix, for your work in the community boosting morale, your work on the front lines, and your commitment to the truth in the face of opposition. Per request, no members names are on the plaque."

"Fourth, Order of Merlin second class to – Professors Severus Snape, Remis Lupin, Lory Finnagan, Students Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, and Luna Lovegood."

"Finally, Order of Merlin first class – to Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom for finally defeating the Dark Lord. Probably the greatest service to the wizarding world since the defeat of Grindeweld." My heart lifted, his Grandmother would have been so proud.

"These and more awards and acknowledgements being sent as we speak to the families of those who fell during these last few years. Dumbledore, I believe the floor is now yours." Dumbledore stood up slowly.

"It's not quite the end of the year, but it is still time to celebrate. We have received official confirmation from the department of Mysteries- Tom Marvolo Riddle, known as Lord Voldemort has crossed beyond the veil of Death. He cannot return."

The cheering accompanying this announcement was deafening- even from the remaining students at the Slytherin table. I applauded carefully as loud as I could, since my voice wouldn't hold out for any cheering.

I still had concerns that once again, we were celebrating pre-maturely. Then I saw it.

Or rather I didn't see it.

After everyone sat down and began to enjoy the feast that was prepared for us, I saw Harry and his friends talking again. Harry lifted up his hair- and the scar was gone.

Whatever connection existed between the boy-who-lived and the dark load was over. Dumbledore saw it too. And for the first time since I've known him, he smiled a genuine- unhaunted smile. Harry could have a future of his own making.

During dessert, Harry made his way up the Headmaster with a small wrapped package and presented it with his thanks from Him, Herminone and Ron for everything and apologized for all the times they broke a rule or lost his temper all these years.

As Harry returned to his seat, those of us near enough to see him unwrap the gift looked at it with curiosity.

It was 2 pairs of fluffy gray-wool socks, and a heavy book called Walden by a muggle author named Thoreau.

And to the surprise of everyone in the hall- and the apparent delight of Harry and his friends,

Dumbledore laughed.


	27. Final Battle with ShakespeareOpera Endin...

It was still hard to get around the new castle.

Built from the old plans, raised from the rubble- most of the secret passages and probably a few new ones were the same. Many thought it was daft to build on the spot where it was known the castle was. But others took it as a sign of the future hopes and dreams of the Brittiana Wizarding World when the tall Ravenclaw Aerie Tower and the tallest Astronomy tower were magically lifted and sealed back into place.

A permanent memorial was placed in the main hall to honor the students and faculty who died in the massacre. For a change I ran by it without a second glance. Still being among the youngest faculty members, I quickly outstripped the rest at a full sprint all the while really wishing for a broom.

I began taking the winding stairs more then 2 at a time hoping I wouldn't land in one of the trick stairs at the speed I was going.

Voldemort and his followers had invaded the castle again.

I saw one of the ghosts floating down through the stairs. "Sir Nicholas! Have you found them?"

"Room of Requirement."

Shit. I put on a fresh burst of speed. Was there a D.A. meeting tonight? I couldn't remember what Neville had told me. How did Voldemort get into the castle- help from the inside? Maybe a student?

I was nearly out of breath when I reached the out of the way corridor.

The door was no where to be seen, but I could faintly hear the sounds of screams and spells on the other side of the wall.

Room of requirement? What I required was an entrance and the room to provide us with what we needed to defeat Voldemort permanently. I paced my required 3 circuits thinking all the while "Griffendor- you made the room, now your heirs defend it. Help them!" and the door appeared. I pulled it open quickly enough to see the room dissolve from the D.A.. classroom, to resemble a dark stone room at the ministry with the stone arch with its concealing and ever-floating curtains.

Harry, Neville, Seamus, Ron, Hermione and the rest of the D.A.. were fighting a losing battle for their lives against 15 death eaters and Voldemort. The room seemed huge, more then big enough to accommodate the numbers. There was a brief stunned pause as the environment changed.

Harry was the first to look and see the door was open. I heard him order Hermione and Ron to start getting the students out. Several refused to leave, including Neville. There were also several down on the floor, I was unsure who they were, but by the look of the way they fell- they wouldn't be getting back up again.

Time seemed to move into slow motion.

I provided cover fire for the students making for the exit hoping the other teachers would help get them to the grounds safely. Neville was holding his own against Bellatrix and Harry was once again facing Voldemort yelling at his friends to leave the entire time.

Voldemort was laughing in that odd high-pitched way of his. I began to think that this was only a set back. That he'd set us up. Then I heard the voices from the curtains; the voices hungering for revenge on the one who sent many of them beyond before their time.

Potter must have heard them as well, sence he started to steer Voldemort towards the opening.

I saw Bellatrix fall clutching at her abdomin in pain. I'm not sure what Neville did, but there was a lot of blood. She fell to the ground in a heap her life pouring across the floor. Neville smiled a maniac grin.

"AVADA KADAVRA!!!" Potters deep voice boomed across the dungeon above the rest of the noise.

A green light shot out of his wand straight at Voldemort.

Nothing happened. Silence once again filled the room.

Then Voldemort started laughing. And pointed his wand at Harry.

"Let me show you how it's done, boy. First you have to really WANT to hurt your opponent."

"Crucio!"

Harry doubled over as the red light hit him. He tried to raise his wand to protect himself, but a death eater kicked it away. We finally got the students who would leave out the door the last one wedged the door open.

What was taking the faculty so long to get here!

Sir Nicholas found me again as if answering my unspoken thought- "Ambush, stairs moved and destroyed, much of the faculty got caught under the rubble. Rest still trying to get here."

"Crucio!"

Harry hit the floor clutching his abdomen blood forming at the side of his mouth. I knew I could never cross the room in time, but I began to duel my way through the wall of death eaters to try.

"Crucio!"

Another Death eater blocked my way, a strong silver hand reached out from the robe and grabbed my by my neck. As the air slowly began to run out, my thoughts and eyes were still on Harry and the remaining students. Very few have felt the full force of that spell from "the master" and lived to tell about it.

Death would seem preferable and kind at this point.

"Accio Wand" I heard Ron's clear tenor voice and saw Harry's wand fly through the air to Ron who then sent it flying back to Harry. Harry picked up the wand, and forced himself to stand and try to cast another spell.

"Avada Kadavara!" Potter managed to get the spell out- a bright green light flew out of his wand staggering Voldemort back a few steps before he fully regained his footing he began to cast at Harry again. But Harry amazingly fired off a second spell, apparently trying anything.

"Expecto Patronum!" A stag burst out of Harry's wand. Driving Voldemort a few more steps backwards.

"Avada Kadavara!" The Green light shot at Harry. He fell backwards into Ron who caught him.

"NOOO!!!" And a body flew threw the air at Voldemort knocking him even closer to the opening in the wall. Momentum carrying Voldemort and his assailant to the opening, tripping on the dais, and turning in such a way that I could see that the attacker was Neville. I tried to scream, but it was getting hot, harder to breathe. My neck and shoulders hurt from the pressure being exerted as my feet lifted off the floor.

But what Harry and Prongs started, Neville finished.

Voldemort was beyond the veil.

The silver hand clutching my neck suddenly vanished and was replaced by a cauterized stump. I fell to the floor hard on one shoulder, and took gasping breaths rubbing my throat.

"Patrificus Totalius!" A feminine voice said from behind us. The death-eaters body went fully rigid from Hermione's spell.

We were closest to the door, where we staggered to keep the rest of the death eaters present from escaping. I was having a difficult time breathing, didn't feel like I was getting enough air, but this wasn't the time for injuries. Several had surrendered by throwing their wands to the floor others were trying to push past us to escape. This was when the remainder of the faculty finally caught up with us.

Hermione took the mask off of the death-eater she froze, revealing a rather starved and terrified Peter Petticrew. The final part of that mystery solved, I felt myself crack backwards against the doorframe.

And I saw no more.

Awareness came back in waves.

I found myself in the infirmary along with many of the students.

How long had I been here? I tried to sit up, found I couldn't. And that my left arm was strapped to my side. I heard quiet voices on the other side of the curtain. I tried to piece back what had happened. One thing I did remember, was Lord Voldemort, Tom Marvolo Riddle was gone.

And so was Neville and Harry Potter. I felt like I couldn't breathe and started coughing.

Madame Pomphry appeared with Severus Snape and Pomona Sprout.

He sat in the chair near my bead while Poppy gave me a once over and some more potions.

"No stunt flying for me for a while- eh?" It was all I could manage to croak out around the pain in my throat and my heart.

"Shh-hh." Poppy pressed her fingers to my list. "Keep talking and I'll have Carly put one of her silencing spells on you!" I waved my hands in mock defeat and looked at Severus.

"We wanted to say thank you for protecting the students. There must be some Gryffendor in you to run into danger that way." His looked at me through his mess of hair. "Hermione and Ron told us that the room changed just as you came in, that there wasn't supposed to be a door anymore. It would take a true Ravenclaw to think of having the 'room of requirement' to provide the way to destroy Voldemort.." I merely nodded.

"Students okay?" I whispered, already knowing the answer. Wincing as Poppy changed the bandages on my dislocated shoulder.

At this Profosser Sprout looked sorrowful and shook her head no. Severus went on to tell me that that beside the several killed in the room, another dozen were lost when the stairway collapsed along with most the faculty and Professor McGonnagal and Albus Dumbledore. Among the studets were my oldest nephew, Seamus Finnagan. At that, I couldn't stop myself when I started weeping quietly so not to disturb the other patients. My nephew and my son both I finally understood my younger sister's description of 'empty arms'. Pomona placed her hand on my shoulder until I quieted a few minutes later.

Poppy helped fit my arm to a sling and said it was okay for me to leave the infirmary as long as I took it slow the first few days out. She also ordered me to the Great Hall to get some food, as it had been more then 3 days since I'd properly eaten.

Professor Snape helped me through the castle and up to the head table where the other teachers were eating.

I sat down heavily in my accustomed seat between Professor Snape and the empty chair where Professor Lupin usually sat. Professor Sprout explained Lupin was still working with the fallen, and should arrive shortly. The hall was decorated with all the House banners above their tables, except for the black banner hanging behind the faculty.

"So what do you want to do now, Professor Finnagan?" I could tell Severus was trying to avoid looking or talking about the large number of empty seats at the faculty tables.

"Probably retire to my teaching, coaching, and expanding my broom restoration business." I said quietly.

"So, nothing's really going to change?"

"Are you kidding- no more ministry owl's at all hours or long ministry meetings. That's a HUGE change for me after nearly 20 years." I tried to grin mischievously but felt it flatten. Damb the ministry to Hades anyway.

The house elves kept a steady stream of appetizers at all the tables. I learned that we were waiting for everyone who was going to be released from the hospital before the feast began. I didn't really feel like eating, and less like celebrating. But I knew my place as Head of Ravenclaw was to be present in the moment for the surviving students.

More chairs were set up at the head table, and finally 2 more tables were added to the dais- expanding the table to an 'I' shape. We were hosting all the various department heads, the remaining Order of the Phoenix, and other officials of the Ministry of Magic. I couldn't meet the eyes of my Department head, or the ex-Head Minister Cornealus Fudge. I couldn't trust my temper.

Finally everyone arrived, and the remaining faculty and ministers processed in to scattered applause. I think many present were still in emotional shock.

The Head Minister stood up as the applause died out. She got right to the point, which I was grateful for.

"We are here to honor those who have fallen, and acknowledge those who helped bring about this astounding event. Please hold your applause to the end."

"First, Order of Avalon, second class – to the Faculty and Staff of Hogwarts School. You trained your students well to think and defend themselves. You also provided safe-haven for the students during the war. This is the second highest award the Ministry can grant to a group of people."

"Second, Order of Avalon, second class – to the Defense Association, also known as Dumbledore's Army. For your unswerving defense of the school and all the students therein. Hermione Granger was kind enough to loan us the roster of the group from these past 3 years, so each student is recognized, as well as the years they participated. She also asked that the names of the members who departed in the line of duty, be plated in gold rather then silver."

"Third, Order of Avalon, first class – to the Order of the Phoenix, for your work in the community boosting morale, your work on the front lines, and your commitment to the truth in the face of opposition your first year. Per request no members names are on the plaque."

"Fourth, Order of Merlin second class to – Professors Severus Snape, Remis Lupin, Lory Finnagan, Students Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, and Luna Lovegood."

"Finally, Order of Merlin first class – Posthumously to Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom. For finally defeating the Dark Lord. Probably the greatest service to the wizarding world since the defeat of Grindeweld."

"These and more awards and acknowledgements being sent as we speak to the families of those who have fallen these last few years. Severus, I believe the floor is now yours." Professor Snape stood up slowly unaccustomed to this role.

"It's not quite the end of the year, but it is still time to celebrate. We have received official confirmation from the department of Mysteries- Tom Marvolo Riddle, known as Lord Voldemort has crossed beyond the veil of Death. He cannot return."

The cheering accompanying this announcement was deafening- even from the remaining students at the Slytherin table. I applauded as loud as I could, since my voice couldn't hold out for any cheering.

"But you should know how it came about. It was a team effort between Harry Potter, and Neville Longbottom. Neville forced Voldemort through the veil, and fell with the enemy. He was a true Gryffendor through the end. Please, stand and raise your glasses to Neville."

Snape looked like he wanted to say more, but words had failed him. It seemed ironoc to me that the teacher Neville feared more then Voldemort, gave him final respects. I've never seen him look that forlorn. Everyone stood. Even Draco Malfoy who wouldn't stand for Cedric. He's changed a lot since the death of his parents a few months back.

As we all sat I couldn't help feeling concern that once again we were celebrating pre-maturely. But after everyone sat down and began to eat the feast that was prepared for us, Snape told us that his dark mark was gone.

Whatever connection existed between the boy dark load and his servants was over.

I just wish Dumbledore could see it too. It would ease his mind to know he could truly rest in peace.

And it occurred to me, Neville would go down in Wizarding history, as a hero.

His Grandmother would finally have been so proud of him.


	28. Final Battle Alt Ending 2 what really h...

It was still hard to get around the new castle.

Built from the old plans, raised from the rubble- most of the secret passages and probably a few new ones were the same. Many thought it was daft to build on the spot where it was known the castle was. But others took it as a sign of the future hopes and dreams of the Brittiana Wizarding World when the tall Ravenclaw Aerie Tower and the tallest Astronomy tower were magically lifted and sealed back into place.

A permanent memorial was placed in the main hall to honor the students and faculty who died in the massacre. For a change I ran by it without a second glance. Still being among the youngest faculty members, I quickly outstripped the rest at a full sprint all the while really wishing for a broom.

I began taking the winding stairs more then 2 at a time hoping I wouldn't land in one of the trick stairs at the speed I was going.

Voldemort and his followers had invaded the castle again.

I saw one of the ghosts floating down through the stairs. "Sir Nicholas! Have you found them?"

"Room of Requirement."

Shit. I put on a fresh burst of speed. Was there a D.A. meeting tonight? I couldn't remember what Neville had told me. How did Voldemort get into the castle- help from the inside? Maybe a student?

I was nearly out of breath when I reached the out of the way corridor.

The door was no where to be seen, but I could faintly hear the sounds of screams and spells on the other side of the wall.

Room of requirement? What I required was an entrance and the room to provide us with what we needed to defeat Voldemort permanently. I paced my required 3 circuits thinking all the while "Griffendor- you made the room, now your heirs defend it. Help them!" and the door appeared. I pulled it open quickly enough to see the room dissolve from the D.A.. classroom, to resemble a dark stone room at the ministry with the stone arch with its concealing and ever-floating curtains.

Harry, Neville, Seamus, Ron, Hermione and the rest of the D.A.. were fighting a losing battle for their lives against 15 death eaters and Voldemort. The room seemed huge, more then big enough to accommodate the numbers. There was a brief stunned pause as the environment changed.

Harry was the first to look and see the door was open. I heard him order Hermione and Ron to start getting the students out. Several refused to leave, including Neville. There were also several down on the floor, I was unsure who they were, but by the look of the way they fell- they wouldn't be getting back up again.

Time seemed to move into slow motion.

I provided cover fire for the students making for the exit hoping the other teachers would help get them to the grounds safely. Neville was holding his own against Bellatrix and Harry was once again facing Voldemort yelling at his friends to leave the entire time.

Voldemort was laughing in that odd high-pitched way of his. I began to think that this was only a set back. That he'd set us up. Then I heard the voices from the curtains; the voices hungering for revenge on the one who sent many of them beyond before their time.

Potter must have heard them as well, sence he started to steer Voldemort towards the opening.

I saw Bellatrix fall clutching at her knee in pain. I'm not sure what Neville did, but there was a lot of blood.

"AVADA KADAVRA!!!" Potters deep voice boomed across the dungeon above the rest of the noise.

A green light shot out of his wand straight at Voldemort.

Nothing happened. Silence once again filled the room.

Then Voldemort started laughing. And pointed his wand at Harry.

"Let me show you how it's done, boy. First you have to really WANT to hurt your opponent."

"Crucio!"

Harry doubled over as the red light hit him. He tried to raise his wand to protect himself, but a death eater kicked it away. We finally got the students who would leave out the door the last one wedged the door open.

What was taking the faculty so long to get here!

Sir Nicholas found me again as if answering my unspoken thought- "Ambush, stairs moved and destroyed, having to invent a new route. Will be here soon!"

"Crucio!"

Harry hit the floor clutching his abdomen blood forming at the side of his mouth. I knew I could never cross the room in time, but I began to duel my way through the wall of death eaters to try.

"Crucio!"

Another Death eater blocked my way, a strong silver hand reached out from the robe and grabbed my by my neck. As the air slowly began to run out, my thoughts and eyes were still on Harry and the remaining students. Very few have felt the full force of that spell from "the master" and lived to tell about it.

Death would seem preferable and kind at this point.

"Accio Wand" I heard Ron's clear tenor voice and saw Harry's wand fly through the air to Ron who then sent it flying back to Harry. Harry picked up the want, and forced himself to stand and try to cast another spell.

"Avada Kadavara!" Potter managed to get the spell out- a bright green light flew out of his wand staggering Voldemort back a few steps before he fully regained his footing he began to cast at Harry again. But Harry amazingly fired off a second spell, apparently trying anything.

"Expecto Patronum!" A stag burst out of Harry's wand. Driving Voldemort a few more steps backwards.

"Cruci---"

"NOOO!!!" And a body flew threw the air at Voldemort knocking him even closer to the opening in the wall. Momentum carrying Voldemort and his assailant to the opening, tripping on the dais, and turning in such a way that I could see that the attacker was Neville. I tried to scream, but it was getting hot, harder to breathe. My neck and shoulders hurt from the pressure being exerted as my feet lifted off the floor.

But what Harry and Prongs started, Neville finished.

Voldemort was beyond the veil.

The silver hand clutching my neck suddenly vanished and was replaced by a cauterized stump. I fell to the floor hard on one shoulder, and took gasping breaths rubbing my throat.

"Patrificus Totalius!" A feminine voice said from behind us. The death-eaters body went fully rigid from Hermione's spell.

We were closest to the door, where we staggered to keep the rest of the death eaters present from escaping. I was having a difficult time breathing, didn't feel like I was getting enough air, but this wasn't the time for injuries. Several had surrendered by throwing their wands to the floor others were trying to push past us to escape. This was when the remainder of the faculty finally caught up with us.

Hermione took the mask off of the death-eater she froze, revealing a rather starved and terrified Peter Petticrew. The final part of that mystery solved, I felt myself crack backwards against the doorframe.

And I saw no more.

Awareness came back in waves.

I found myself in the infirmary along with many of the students.

How long had I been here? I tried to sit up, found I couldn't. And that my left arm was strapped to my side. I heard quiet voices on the other side of the curtain. I tried to piece back what had happened. One thing I did remember, was Lord Voldemort, Tom Marvolo Riddle was gone.

And so was Neville. I felt like I couldn't breathe and started coughing.

Madame Pomphry appeared with Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

He sat in the chair near my bead while Poppy gave me a once over and some more potions.

"No stunt flying for me for a while- eh?" It was all I could manage to croak out around the pain in my throat and my heart.

"Shh-hh." Poppy pressed her fingers to my list. "Keep talking and I'll have Carly put one of her silencing spells on you!" I waved my hands in mock defeat and looked at Dumbledore.

"I wanted to say thank you for protecting the students the way you did. There must be some Gryffendor in you to run into danger that way." His looked at me over his glasses. "Hermione and Ron told us that the room changed just as you came in, that there wasn't supposed to be a door anymore. It would take a true Ravenclaw to think of having the 'room of requirement' to provide the way to destroy Voldemort. Very Clever move, Miss Finnagan. Very Cleaver indeed." I rolled my eyes as my response.

"Students okay?" I whispered, already knowing the answer. Wincing as Poppy changed the bandages on my dislocated shoulder.

At this Dumbledore looked sorrowful and shook his head no. He went on to tell me that that beside the several killed in the room, another dozen were lost when the stairway collapsed. Including my oldest nephew, Seamus Finnagan. At that, I couldn't stop myself when I started weeping quietly so not to disturb the other patients. My nephew and my son both

Dumbledore placed his hand on my shoulder until I quieted a few minutes later.

Poppy helped fit my arm to a sling and said it was okay for me to leave the infirmary as long as I took it slow the first few days out. She also ordered me to the Great Hall to get some food, as it had been more then 3 days since I'd properly eaten.

Professor Snape helped me through the castle and up to the head table where the other teachers were eating.

I sat down heavily in my accustomed seat between Professor Snape and the empty chair where Professor Lupin usually sat. Professor Sprout explained Lupin would be helping Harry to the hall and should arrive shortly. The hall was decorated with all the House banners above their tables, except for the black banner still hanging behind the faculty.

"So what do you want to do now, Professor Finnagan?"

"Retire to my teaching, coaching, and expanding my broom restoration business." I said quietly.

"So, nothing's really going to change?"

"Are you kidding- no more ministry owl's at all hours or long ministry meetings. That's a HUGE change for me after nearly 20 years." I tried to grin mischievously but felt it flatten. Damb the ministry anyway.

When Harry arrived amidst scattered applause, his hair was messier then usual- completely hiding his forehead. He sat down carefully next to Ron and Hermione.

The house elves kept a steady stream of appetizers at all the tables. I learned that we were waiting for everyone to be released from the hospital before the feast began. I didn't really feel like eating, and less like celebrating. But I knew my place as Head of Ravenclaw was to be present in the moment.

More chairs were set up at the head table, and finally 2 more tables were added to the dais- expanding the table to an 'I' shape. We were hosting all the various department heads, the Order of the Phoenix, and other officials of the Ministry of Magic. I couldn't meet the eyes of my Department head, or the ex-Head Minister Cornealus Fudge.

Finally everyone arrived, and the remaining faculty and ministers processed in, Dumbledore last of all.

The Head Minister stood up as the applause died out. She got right to the point, which I was grateful for.

"We are here to honor those who have fallen, and acknowledge those who helped bring about this astounding event. Please hold your applause to the end."

"First, Order of Avalon, second class – to the Faculty and Staff of Hogwarts School. You trained your students well to think and defend themselves. You also provided safe-haven for the students during the war. This is the second highest award the Ministry can grant to a group of people."

"Second, Order of Avalon, second class – to the Defense Association, also known as Dumbledore's Army. For your unswerving defense of the school and all the students therein. Hermione Granger was kind enough to loan us the roster of the group from these past 3 years, so each student is recognized, as well as the years they participated. She also asked that the names of the members who departed in the line of duty, be plated in gold rather then silver."

"Third, Order of Avalon, first class – to the Order of the Phoenix, for your work in the community boosting morale, your work on the front lines, and your commitment to the truth in the face of opposition your first year. Per request, no members names are on the plaque."

"Fourth, Order of Merlin second class to – Professors Severus Snape, Remis Lupin, Lory Finnagan, Students Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, and Luna Lovegood."

"Finally, Order of Merlin first class – to Harry Potter and Posthumously Neville Longbottom. For finally defeating the Dark Lord. Probably the greatest service to the wizarding world since the defeat of Grindeweld."

"These and more awards and acknowledgements being sent as we speak to the families of those who have fallen these last few years. Dumbledore, I believe the floor is now yours." Dumbledore stood up slowly.

"It's not quite the end of the year, but it is still time to celebrate. We have received official confirmation from the department of Mysteries- Tom Marvolo Riddle, known as Lord Voldemort has crossed beyond the veil of Death. He cannot return."

The cheering accompanying this announcement was deafening- even from the remaining students at the Slytherin table. I applauded as loud as I could, since my voice couldn't hold out for any cheering.

"But you should know how it came about. It was a team effort between Harry Potter, and Neville Longbottom. Neville forced Voldemort through the veil, and fell with the enemy. He was a true Gryffendor through the end- he will be missed. Please, stand and raise your glasses to Neville."

Dumbledore looked like he wanted to say more, but words had failed him. I've never seen him look that forlorn. Everyone stood. Even Draco Malfoy who wouldn't stand for Cedric. He's changed a lot since the death of his mother a few months back.

As we all sat I couldn't help feeling concern that once again we were celebrating pre-maturely. Then I saw.

Or rather, I didn't see it.

After everyone sat down and began to enjoy the feast that was prepared for us, I saw Harry and his friends talking again. Harry lifted up his hair- and the scar was gone.

Whatever connection existed between the boy-who-lived and the dark load was over. Dumbledore saw it too. And for the first time since I've known him, he smiled a small genuine- unhaunted smile.

Harry could live to have a future of his own making. Unlike Neville.

"He will have the power the dark lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other, for Neither could live while the other survived."

I almost hated Harry Potter in that moment- the last of the line of Gryffendor.

Almost. I knew, logically, I was just allowing rage to get the better of me and misplace my grief. I took a deep breath to steady myself. Neville wouldn't want me to hate one of his good friends.

It occurred to me, Neville would go down in Wizarding history, as a hero.

His Grandmother would finally have been so proud of him.

During dessert, Harry made his way up the Headmaster with a small wrapped package and presented it with his thanks from Him, Herminone and Ron for everything and apologized for all the times they broke a rule or lost his temper.

As Harry returned to his seat, those of us near enough to see him unwrap the gift looked at it with curiosity.

It was 2 pairs of fluffy gray-wool socks, and a heavy book called Walden by a muggle author named Thoreau.

And to the surprise of everyone in the hall- and the delight of Harry and his friends,

Dumbledore laughed.


End file.
